Forged in the Fire
by OnceUponASomeday
Summary: The forging part. Rayna, Deacon and some familiar faces preparing to set out on their first tour.
1. Chapter 1

**CMT, I will love you forever. Can not wait to see what the new showrunners do to turn this ship around.**

 **In the meantime, this is a version of Rayna and Deacon getting together back in the day. Not necessarily how I think it happened but it sure is fun to play with them. :) Multi-chapter.**

'Wheels up is in two weeks. It doesn't give you long to get a show together, but I said you'd do it.'

Watty, sitting opposite Rayna, lifted his coffee cup and waited for her reaction, blowing lightly on it with a small, patient smile.

'Are you serious?' she squeaked, staring at him in disbelief. 'You got us a tour slot? With _Randy Travis_?'

'One of Randy's openers dropped out and I jumped on it before he got someone else. It's perfect for you, Rayna. I'll help you get a band together, I've got some great guys in mind.'

Deacon, in the seat next to Rayna, was beaming at her. 'Did you know about this?' she asked, whipping around to face him.

'Watty mighta called me last night,' he admitted, and she swiped her napkin at him.

'You sat in this booth with me for a whole hour knowing Watty was gonna come in here and land _this_ on us?'

'I didn't want to ruin the surprise.'

'Deacon's agreed to lead your band.' Watty had that ever-knowing look that was so often on his face. 'You'll be in good hands with him.'

Oh, Rayna knew _that_.

'If you'll have me,' Deacon added, and his expression was so earnest she couldn't take it. There was a little hint of nervousness there, as though he thought she would dream of going out on her first tour without him. It had been a little over a year of making music with him and somewhere along the way he'd become part of her, no going back.

'Hmm,' she mused, turning towards the window. It was a bright, sunny day in Nashville, trucks rolling by outside in no hurry. 'I'll think about it.'

She saw him nod in acceptance out of the corner of her eye, and turned to unleash a full-force smile at him. 'I've thought about it. You're in,' she said, and his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

He held out his hand and she slipped hers into it. 'Congratulations, boss,' he told her, shaking it mock-formally. 'Your very first tour. Won't be long before you're headlinin', Ray, I just know it.'

/

By the next afternoon she'd officially accepted the slot and had a full band in place. Watty's suggestions had proved spot on and Rayna and Deacon had loved the two guys he'd lined up, and Deacon's roommate Vince fit the bill for a second acoustic guitar player and his right-hand man.

It was all moving so fast, Rayna could barely get her head around it; a band, _her_ band, talk of tour buses and set lists and cities she'd never been to. She couldn't wait.

'So,' Deacon said when they got back to his house that night, 'how you feelin' about all this?'

She smiled, the kind of smile with a mind of its own. 'I'm still in shock, but it's amazing. I can't get over how lucky we are.'

He shook his head, still stunned himself. 'It's crazy. But you deserve this, you've worked your ass off this past year to bag something like this.'

' _We_ deserve this, Deacon. You've worked just as hard as I have. I wouldn't want to do this with anyone but you. I _couldn't_ do it with anyone but you.'

He looked at her in that way only he ever had, and she turned away to shrug her jacket off, tossing it onto the back of a chair and trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

'You sure you're good with quitting your job to do this?'

'It's a shitty bar job, there are plenty more in this town. And the money from the tour is a whole lot better anyway - I can't believe they're _payin'_ us to go out and play, Ray. I'd quit a thousand jobs for this.'

'Two months, just music and an open road,' she said, feeling like she was floating. 'This is it, Deacon. This is where our whole lives change.'

She flopped onto the couch and he watched her for a moment before he sat, a little cautiously, next to her.

'What?'

'I just... I'm just real excited about this. I'm really happy to see you so happy.'

She squeezed his hand, and for a moment they sat grinning at each other, neither moving to let go until the shrill ring of a phone broke the moment.

'Yup,' Deacon answered when he got up to grab it, still looking at Rayna as he wedged the receiver under his chin. She watched his face turn a little pale as the person on the other end spoke. 'It's your sister,' he said, holding it out for her. 'She wants to know when you were gonna tell her about Randy Travis.'

###

'How about this one?' Tandy asked, holding up yet another little black dress. 'You'd look cute as hell in this.'

'Isn't that a little short, Tandy?'

'Are you kidding me? Those legs deserve short dresses, babe. If I had pins like yours I wouldn't cover them up if I was in a blizzard in Alaska. And this is a killer boob dress too.'

'I thought the rule was legs _or_ boobs?'

'Oh please,' Tandy said with an airy wave, 'if you've got it, put it in a hot dress and flaunt it.'

Rayna shook her head in amusement. 'And here I was thinking you wanted me to be trussed up like a nun every time I was out of the house.'

'The boys look at you either way, so you may as well get this music thing off to a flying start. These tour outfits are going to be people's first impression of you - we're gonna make it a lasting one.' Tandy winked at her sister, shimmying the dress this way and that so it glimmered enticingly at her.

It _was_ cute. Rayna trailed her fingers over the fabric, imaging herself wearing it on stage singing some of the uptempo songs she and Deacon had been writing. She reached for the price tag.

'Good Lord! It costs more than I make in a week - I can't afford that.' She moved onto the jean skirts and plaid section - far more appropriate for the kind of impression she wanted to give off on her first time out anyway.

'You know, I still need to get you a housewarming gift, it's been what, six months?' Tandy said, catching up to her and thumbing through the shirts on the nearest rack, trying not to look critical. 'Why don't you let me get this stuff for you?'

'A housewarming gift? Since when did you want to warm that house, Tandy? You hate that I'm staying there. And it's been four months, not six.'

' _Daddy_ hates that you're staying there, I only worry. How is that going, anyway? The Deacon thing…'

Rayna held a pair of denim cut-offs up against herself. 'The Deacon thing? You mean him letting me stay in his house so I'm not living under a bridge, while Daddy chooses which of his six bedrooms to sleep in? It's going great, thanks for asking.'

'You know what I mean. How is it living with him? I mean, he's… older, and, you know, rough around the edges. It's not the _best_ situation.'

'He's a perfect gentleman Tandy, if that's what you're getting at. He's my best friend, and my writing partner. You wouldn't believe how much we get done, it's amazing.'

Her sister fixed her with a knowing look, one that irritated the hell out of her. 'Oh I'm sure there's a lot Deacon wants to get done. Is he still letting you sleep in his bed?'

Rayna wasn't sure why her cheeks flushed, and she cursed herself for it. 'Would you come on? He sleeps on the couch every night, like I told you. He insists on me taking the bed, and I feel just terrible about it. It's temporary, anyway. When we get back from this tour and I've earned some decent money I'll be looking for a place of my own. I'm on my way to making it, I really am.'

Tandy stopped and looked at her. She twirled one of her curls around a manicured finger. 'I know you are,' she said quietly. 'I'm proud of you, little sis, you know that.'

For the smallest of seconds, she looked just like their mother, the tilted smile she would have worn when Rayna shared her first chance of success. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared though, and a stern look rolled across her face.

'Just you make sure Deacon Claybourne keeps his hands on that guitar.'

###

'So we gonna sub-let this place or what?' Vince asked, popping the cap on a sweating bottle of Bud and leaning back on the couch.

'Sure, we just gotta find somebody to take it. Landlord's happy as long as he's gettin' a cheque at the end of the month.'

'My buddy from the bar's lookin' for a place to move in with his missus. I'll ask him tomorrow.'

Deacon dropped into a moth-bitten armchair, a spring digging into his right buttcheek. 'No guy should be movin' his lady into this dump, Vince.'

'You moved your girl in. Place is good enough for Rayna ain't it?'

'This place ain't nowhere near good enough for Rayna. And neither am I - she ain't my girl.'

'That why you pine after her like a stray pup?'

'I don't pine,' Deacon objected with a scowl, 'and you know why I moved her in here. She had no place else to go.'

'And you came along like her knight in shinin' denim and saved her from the mean streets.'

Deacon shook his head and reached for his guitar. 'I ain't even listenin' to you anymore.'

Vince chuckled; if there was one thing he loved, it was winding Deacon up about Rayna. It was an easy sport - Deacon's sore spot when it came to her was a mile wide. 'She sure has kicked our asses into shape though, huh? You even wash dishes now.'

'She's the best thing that ever happened to this hellhole, that's for sure.'

'Ain't ever seen you this whipped. God help us all when you eventually get a clue and start screwin' her.'

Deacon stopped playing abruptly. 'You're an asshole, man. You know that?'

Vince smirked and took a swig of his beer. 'Sure you want me on this tour?'

'I ain't sure at all. You gonna hit on Randy's groupies and make us kick you off the bus?'

'I can't promise you that won't happen.' He reached for the TV remote, flicking over to a football game just as the cheerleaders were strutting onto the pitch, much to his joy. 'You gonna hit on Rayna and get us kicked off the tour?'

###

The coffee in the polystyrene cup in Rayna's hands was sending little swirls of steam up towards her nose; she breathed them in, hoping maybe the caffeine would hit her bloodstream without her having to drink the stuff. She thought coffee tasted awful, bitter and pungent. but everybody else was knocking it back by the gallon and it seemed to help them get through the long days.

They'd been rehearsing for a week, for as many hours each day as they could cram in. Rayna was still waiting tables at the diner in Deacon's neighbourhood, where he'd helped her to get a job after her father turned his back on her. She was living off exhilaration and handfuls of sleep, finding herself yawning as she was wiping tables and counting the minutes until she could escape to Soundcheck.

She had quickly become addicted to the buzz of the place: the people pacing around in all directions, the smell of the equipment, most of all to the sound of music emanating from every rehearsal studio and twisting out into the corridors. Watty had had a backdrop made up for her with her name on it and she'd thought she might faint with joy when he'd arranged for it to be put up to show her. They'd left it in situ in the studio reserved just for them, her name in thick swirly typeface greeting them every day when they walked in.

She spooned a big heap of sugar into the coffee and stirred it in, hoping for the best as she tipped her head back.

'Hey Ray, you want to go over Already Gone one more time? I think we could speed the tempo up a little, I don't feel like we've quite nailed it yet.'

Deacon was hunched over a set list, a pen in his hand, his guitar around his neck. He'd taken to the role of bandleader so naturally Rayna would have thought he'd done it a hundred times, but he hadn't. His resume was far more modest but full of hard work - he'd been performing with his sister since they were kids, with Vince since he'd come to Nashville a couple of years earlier, in various friends' bands around town whenever a lead guitar gig came up. His love for music was intrinsic to who he was; his ear for a melody, the fingers to execute it with ease. Something to say. All Deacon needed was a break, and Rayna hoped with all she had that this was it.

'Sure,' she said. 'If we're making it more upbeat I think we should move it to the opener too.'

Deacon nodded emphatically, scribbling again on the list of songs, most of which they'd written together. 'That's perfect,' he said, lifting his head and grinning at her.

'From the top?' Jimmy, their bass player, asked, strumming a couple of warm up notes.

Watty had introduced them to Jimmy and his friend Kennedy just over a week earlier. They'd been playing in a band together locally, Jimmy on bass and Kennedy on drums, and Watty had been waiting for the right opportunity to poach both of them after seeing them at an open mic in Midtown. They'd started rehearsals the very next day, getting to know each other better that same evening over a firepit at Kennedy's house in Inglewood.

Rayna was surprised by the respect they'd shown her as a songwriter; she wasn't used to being taken seriously yet, not by anyone other than Deacon and Vince, and Watty, who'd always championed her but she'd never really known if it was out of obligation to her mother. Jimmy and Kennedy had listened to her ideas, had relished learning and performing her songs, complimented her lyrics.

'Deacon has a lot to do with those,' she'd tell them, but Deacon wouldn't let her sidestep any credit.

Rayna wanted to hug herself every time she thought about the prospect of hitting the road with their little group, all the times they would share, the stories they would tell each other. As much hard work as they still had to do, it was all coming together.

###

The diner always smelled like burnt toast and pecan pie, curiously, considering they hadn't served pecan pie since the owner's mother had died and taken the recipe with her.

The owner, Old Billy, had a soft spot for Rayna. He'd changed the rota so she could fit shifts around her rehearsals, and had promised her there would be a job to come back to should she need it after the tour.

'You won't though,' he'd said more than once, twirling the end of his white beard the way he always did. He looked like a hillbilly Santa Claus, kind and a little bit cartoonish. 'I've heard you singin' while you been washin' dishes in the back there. Y'all are gonna leave this place in the dust, I know it.'

'Old Billy's right you know,' Katie, one of the other waitresses, told her one afternoon with a wink. 'You ain't comin' back here.'

'Not on this side of the counter anyway. Gonna be us waitin' on _you_ if you're ever through that door again.' Annabelle was Old Billy's niece, blonde as they came and sweet as the waffles she was famous for serving up. She was older than she seemed, younger than her trademark false lashes made her look.

Katie was a couple of years older than Rayna, and as was the norm in Nashville she moonlighted in a few bars around town, singing wispy folk songs for smiles and tips.

Rayna liked them both a lot. She knew they were both concerned that she was fending for herself at such a young age, and they looked out for her in their own subtle ways. Annabelle sent her home loaded with leftover pies and cakes she'd baked more than a few times a week - to Deacon and Vince's delight - and Katie quietly swapped their shifts so that Rayna was always on an early finish when she had a gig. As much as she didn't want to lean on anyone too much, it was a comfort to have good people around her.

'I wish y'all could come out on tour with me,' Rayna told them. 'You could even out the testosterone levels. I've already heard more fart jokes than I ever thought was possible.'

'Honey, wait until you're on the bus with all those guys. You'll be wishin' you were only _hearin'_ about farts.'

'Boys are awful,' Katie agreed, wiping her hands on the skirt of her pale blue uniform and picking up a fresh pot of coffee. 'Except Deacon,' she added, turning back as she headed towards a table of truckers to top them up. 'Deacon is _anythin'_ but awful.'

'Well would you speak of the devil,' Annabelle said, looking up as the bell above the glass door pinged. Deacon took off a pair of shades and caught Rayna's eye, and Annabelle whistled under her breath. ' _Damn_ is that devil handsome.'

'Hey Ray,' he greeted her, and she dropped the dishcloth in her hands onto the counter and hopped around it to hug him briefly.

'What are you doin' here? I thought you were openin' at the bar today?'

He was in one of his usual flannels, his jeans perfectly snug. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Annabelle smoothing the hair that was piled up on her head and straightening her skirt, and Katie beelining back towards them.

'Hi Deacon,' they both purred.

'Afternoon ladies,' he replied, dipping his head and giving them a dimpled smile, in full charm mode. Rayna snorted.

'I'm on my way over to the bar now,' he said, turning back to her. 'I just had to come see you first, I couldn't wait to show you this.' He hitched the guitar case from his shoulder and set it down on a nearby table, and she frowned.

'What is it?'

'Watty came to see me. He brought _this_.' He flipped the clasps and opened the unfamiliar case, lifting its contents out reverently. 'It's a Hummingbird, Ray, one of the best Gibsons around. I ain't ever even held one of these before. Isn't she beautiful?'

Rayna ran a finger over the smooth, red-tinged wood. She knew nothing about guitars but even she could tell it was something special, and the awe in Deacon's voice was undeniable. She watched him gaze down at the strings as he plucked a couple of notes; he shook his head at the sound it made and looked up at her again, thrilled to see her approval.

'Why did he bring it over?'

'He wanted to give it to me, but I couldn't accept it. This guitar is worth a fortune, it ain't somethin' I could ever take freely.'

'But it's so pretty,' Rayna said, imagining how good it would look in his hands on stage, what kind of magical sounds he could coax from it.

'That it is.'

'Are you sure you couldn't accept it? Watty has a whole lot of guitars. He'd be happy for someone with your talent to have this one.'

'I'm sure I couldn't,' he said, setting it back in the case carefully and closing the lid, but then he broke into a grin. 'So I agreed to borrow it instead. Just while we're out on the road, seein' as we're on a real professional tour. Ain't nothin' wrong with my old Gibson, I saved up for three years to buy that guitar and it's never failed me. But it _is_ a little worse for wear, and we gotta look polished.'

'Want some cherry pie Deacon?' Annabelle asked, sidling up to them, her voice an octave lower than it usually was. She'd somehow managed to apply an extra coat of lipstick in the last couple of minutes. 'It's homemade, I baked it myself just this mornin'.'

'That is a delicious and very sweet offer,' Deacon said, 'but I really should pass I'm afraid. Rayna here has been feedin' me up so well on your wonderful pies I'm afraid I'm gonna have to go up a belt loop.'

He shouldered the guitar case as Annabelle and Katie giggled, offering reassurances that the contents of his belt were just fine to their eyes.

'Y'all are gonna blink your eyeballs right outta their sockets, you bat your lashes any harder,' Rayna said in amusement when he'd bid them goodbye and made for his truck.

'Can you blame us?' Katie asked, throwing him a last girlish wave as he pulled away. 'I don't know how you sleep at night with just a teensy little wall between you, Rayna. I'd sweat myself right outta bed.'

Annabelle slung a tea towel over her shoulder and picked up a plate of biscuits and fried chicken the chef slid through the hatch. 'It is a damn shame I got that lazy ass of a husband at home gatherin' dust. I would divorce him in a heartbeat for an hour with Deacon Claybourne's belt loops.'

###

'So what's the deal there? He her boyfriend?'

John Jenkins had met Watty when they were Saturday boys at Ernest Tubb record store downtown, polishing the glass frames on the wall and re-arranging the discs in alphabetical order. They'd earned their salt in the years following - these days they were two of the most respected names in all of Nashville. John ran a successful indie label on Music Row, feeding the occasional act to the bigwigs for a generous commission, cherry-picking the more intriguing ones for himself. Watty had scouted many an artist for him, and though she was still polishing her show ready to take it on the road, he wanted to put Rayna on his radar.

'Nope.' Watty shook his head. 'They're not together. I've known Rayna all her life, watched her start to realise she has a gift, learn how to use it. She just needed something, you know, she wasn't quite ready.'

'Or some _one_.'

Watty nodded. 'Bingo. I stumbled upon Deacon playin' over at the Bluebird last year. Knew the kid was exactly what Rayna needed right away. He's got some serious talent.'

John Jenkins sat back in his seat, still scrutinising them. 'Won't argue with you there. This girl's got somethin', no question, but he brings it out in her in a way I haven't seen in a long damn time.'

Up on the stage, Deacon leaned into Rayna, and she looked up at him with absolute trust, nodding at what he was saying and motioning with her hands. It seemed he agreed with whatever her point was, and a moment of understanding passed between them before Deacon turned back to the band and relayed tweaks to the number.

Watty smiled indulgently. He never claimed credit for any of the acts he discovered, merely made connections and saw what other people didn't. This particular connection, though, may just have been the best thing he'd had a hand in yet. He knew John was impressed; he was a chatty guy, someone who knew his stuff and was leaps ahead of most others in the business. His silence as he watched Rayna and Deacon said everything it needed to.

'I'll have Randy's manager hold me back some seats for the home show. I want to see how long it takes my wife to fall for these two.' He turned to Watty. 'Been a long while since we've had a bonafide Johnny and June on the circuit.'

He looked at them again, seemingly unable to help himself. Deacon's eyes were firmly fixed on Rayna's as they sang, their harmonies a perfect blend. 'You sure they're not together?'

'I'm sure,' Watty said, though he had his own thoughts on the matter.

John laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as he rose from his seat. 'We'll see how long that lasts. I hope you know what you've done there, my friend.'

###

'I'm not used to being anybody's boss,' Rayna said, walking arm in arm with Deacon through the Soundcheck parking lot towards his rusty old truck. 'It's so funny that the guys are all looking to me to tell them what I want. I don't know if I'll ever get used to that.'

Deacon squeezed her arm tighter. 'You will, darlin'. And for the record, you're pretty good at bein' bossy.'

'I am not.' She nudged him with her hip. 'Get in that truck, I want BBQ.'

He laughed and headed around to the passenger side, opening the door for her. Rayna jumped in, dropping her canvas bag onto the floor. She felt giddy, lightheaded, the songs they'd spent all day going over swirling around her head. Deacon threw the truck into drive and backed out of the lot and she rolled the window down, the humid summer's night air hitting her face.

She could hardly wait until they set out on the road; this life was exactly what she'd dreamed of for so long, and it felt good. It felt _really_ good.

'Is Vince gonna meet us there?' she asked as they slowed at a traffic light. They were on Broadway, and the music engulfed them from every direction.

'Nah, he's got a hot date, that _well-endowed_ waitress from Hooters he met the other week. I swear, that guy has the worst taste in girls, he never changes.'

Rayna smirked. 'Worse than you?'

The sky was turning, fluorescent lights from the honky tonks just starting to take over for the night shift, and they highlighted Deacon's jawline. Even at twenty years old he was so manly, in many ways. And in others, Rayna had silently observed, he was a boy, vulnerable and raw as could be. She was sure he wouldn't want her to see that side of him though.

'I have bad taste in girls?' he asked, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow, but she saw a little something else not quite masked by his nonchalance.

'I wouldn't know.' Maybe it was the exhilaration of the day making her feel a little daring, but she couldn't help pushing him a little. 'You haven't been on a date since I moved in. Vince told me you've always been a ladies' man. What, am I crampin' your style?'

He laughed softly, looking out of the windscreen as the lights changed to green. 'Somethin' like that.'

Rayna watched him for a moment. 'Is it because I'm in your bed?'

When he turned towards her, the look in his eye said much more than she could understand, and it was gone before she could start to.

'No,' he said, a little gruffly. 'I don't want anyone else in my bed.'

They were silent until they pulled up outside the BBQ place. Rayna climbed out of the truck, always just short of being able to comfortably hop to the ground when she swung her feet out.

'It's because Vince has already been out with every girl in town isn't it?' she said, poking him in the arm to lighten the sudden mood. 'You were just too slow, cowboy.'

His face crinkled into a smile. 'That, and you keep stealin' my best shirts and usin' 'em for pyjamas so I'm all out of stuff to wear on any dates. Between the two of y'all I got no chance.'

###

'You've fluffed that same cushion three times, man. I don't think it's gonna make it any less beer-stained. Anyone would think you're expectin' the Queen of England round for dinner.'

'You've never met Rayna's sister,' Deacon said, shooing Vince off the couch. 'Would you take that trash out when you go to pick up some wine?'

'We're havin' wine? This chick not a beer drinker?'

'Word of advice Vinny. Don't even think about callin' Tandy a 'chick' when she gets here. She will end you.'

Vince let out a low whistle and grabbed his jacket. 'I want her already. Red or white?'

'Get a couple of bottles of red, a decent one.'

'How do I know if it's decent?'

Deacon frowned, picking up a detergent spray from the counter that half-heartedly separated the kitchen and living room. 'I don't know, I guess anythin' more than twenty bucks has gotta be drinkable, right? Grab some cash out of my wallet, it's on the coffee table.'

Vince gave him a salute and pulled out a couple of notes. 'We need anythin' else?'

'Maybe some of those fancy olives or somethin',' Deacon said, his head in the cupboard under the sink where he was rummaging for a clean dishcloth. 'Ask the guy at the deli what goes with wine. Not sure you and me are qualified for that kinda decision.'

'You think?' Vince plucked an empty beer bottle Deacon had missed from behind a pot plant and slam-dunked it into his trashbag. The plant was Rayna's doing, as was the photo of the three of them that hung above it.

'Hey buddy, one more thing,' Deacon called.

'You want me to change my t-shirt.'

'Yup.'

Vince sighed, looking down at the outline of a busty girl straddling a motorbike. 'Least I won't spill wine on Marilyn.'

/

'Are you gonna come out and see a show Tandy?' Deacon asked, spooning spaghetti bolognese onto Rayna's sister's plate. Rayna caught his eye and gave him a grateful half-smile, and he felt a familiar warmth fill his chest.

'I certainly am,' Tandy replied, nodding a _thanks_ at him when he set down the serving bowl. 'I'm hoping to make it up to Louisville.'

He hadn't had a clue what a serving bowl even was until Rayna had educated him, and he was still baffled as to why there needed to be a step between cooking and putting it on your plate, but he'd take any tip he could to make Tandy look at him with slightly less disdain.

'I hear the crowds are great over there,' Rayna said, grating parmesan over her food. Deacon had never had fresh parmesan before, he'd always bought the kind that came out of a packet. He watched her, hoping he wouldn't get it all over the table when she passed it to him. She must have sensed his apprehension, and she held the grater towards his plate, meeting his eyes and sprinkling a neat little pile on top of his sauce for him.

'I'm sure they will be,' Tandy said. 'It seems Randy Travis has quite the following.'

'He does,' Rayna nodded enthusiastically, clearly a little surprised that her sister would have paid enough attention to know so. 'I still can't believe we get to tour with him. How crazy it that?' Her face lit up, and Deacon only realised he was staring at her when Vince kicked him under the table.

'It's certainly going to be quite the experience.' Tandy twirled spaghetti around her fork, lifting it to her mouth without spilling a drop. 'Are you feeling prepared?'

Deacon sipped his wine. Twenty dollars bought an expensive bottle of vinegar, it turned out. 'I think we are. We've been rehearsing every minute we can, the set is soundin' pretty great.' He looked at Rayna and she nodded in agreement.

'You should hear how good everyone sounds together Tandy, it's so wonderful. I just want to sing every minute of every day.'

Her sister smiled at her, and her face softened. She certainly loved Rayna dearly. 'You always have,' she said.

'I can't wait for you to meet the guys in the band. They're so great. We're gonna have so much fun out on the road.'

'Not _too_ much fun,' Tandy said, the schoolteacher tone back. She fixed her eyes on Deacon, and he heard her warning loud and clear. He cleared his throat and tried as hard as he could not to squirm in his chair.

Vince, oblivious, loudly slurped in a mouthful of spaghetti and declared, before he'd properly swallowed it, 'Work hard, play harder, that's what they say.'

The swivel of Tandy's head in his direction was slow and sharp as a kitchen knife. Vince gulped, his fork faltering on the way back to his plate.

'Anyone for water?' Rayna asked, hiding a smile.

'We're sure gonna be workin' hard, no two ways about that,' Deacon threw in hurriedly. 'We're on the whole first leg of the tour, forty-two dates all in, countin' a handful of matinees.'

'And all those places we get to see, Tandy - I haven't been to even half of them!'

Rayna crossed her legs and brushed Deacon's ankle with her foot unintentionally. She let it rest there and his attention on the conversation faltered, whatever Vince was waffling about going completely over his head. She'd dressed in an outfit he'd never seen before, a demure black dress that fell just above her knees, casual enough for dinner at home but smarter than the cut-offs or leggings she usually threw on after work. She'd kicked her shoes off under the table though, he realised, and her bare foot was warm against the skin between his boot and the hem of his jeans.

'Is this a Rioja?' Tandy asked, and he tuned back in before she read his mind and disposed of his balls with the cheesegrater. She swirled the wine around her glass and sniffed at it, swallowing a trial sip.

Deacon nodded, watching her reaction with apprehension. 'It's er, an '87 reserve,' he said, glancing surreptitiously down at the label. When she hummed in approval and swivelled the bottle around to look at it more closely, he shot Vince a discreet thumbs up in relief.

'Not bad,' she conceded, taking a bigger mouthful.

'We do enjoy a good reserve from time to time,' Vince said, sampling his own glass. His face changed as he tasted it, and for a second Deacon thought he was going to spit it back out.

'I'm sure you do,' Tandy replied, unable to hide the purse of her lips as she turned to look at Vince, taking in the sauce splatters on the blue Grandad shirt he'd changed into. She winced ever so slightly and covered it with a polite, if forced, smile. 'This spaghetti is lovely, Deacon. I didn't know you were a whizz in the kitchen.'

'Oh I'm far from it, but my mama was quite the expert at comfort food when I was growin' up. What she doesn't know how to cook ain't worth eatin'. I picked up a few recipes from her, pretty basic ones but they do the trick.'

'Are your parents from around here?' Tandy asked conversationally, and Rayna stood quickly.

'More sauce?' she offered, dolloping a spoonful on each of their plates without waiting for their answers. 'It really is great, Deacon.'

Tandy took the hint and let the question pass unanswered. 'I'm sure however simple your cooking skills you're a vast improvement on my sister. She won't make anyone a good wife in the kitchen department, no doubt there.'

'You're one to talk,' Rayna said. 'Tandy once tried to bake cookies for homeroom and gave everyone food poisoning. The whole class had to stay home for two days. Billy Shroeder puked so hard he burst the capillaries in his eyes and they were red for a month. He looked like a vampire.'

Deacon chuckled, enjoying watching Rayna laugh with her sister. She'd spoken, sometimes sadly, of their past closeness, but there had been so many tensions between them since their father had told Rayna to leave the family house. It was no secret that Tandy didn't agree with her life choices, but Deacon could see she was doing the best she could to be supportive anyway.

'You know, Tandy,' Vince said, rotating his wine glass in the way he'd seen her do, 'I bake a mean dessert.' They all looked at him, Rayna and Deacon bracing themselves.

'Is that so?' Tandy deadpanned.

'It sure is. I could show you sometime, if you like.' He leaned back in his chair, draping one arm over the back of hers. 'Always happy to help a lady ice her cookies.'

###

'I can't believe we leave tomorrow already. This couple of weeks has felt like five minutes.'

Rayna stretched her legs out onto the coffee table, joining Deacon's and Vince's. She slid a cushion underneath them, flinging herself back into an almost-horizontal position and making herself comfortable. Deacon took advantage of the spare half of the cushion, crossing his feet at the ankles and propping them on it.

'The bus is so much better than I was expectin' for our first tour,' he said. 'I can't wait to get on it and get goin' on this thing.'

Watty had had it park up a day early at Soundcheck so they could see their home for the next couple of months. It was pretty basic, definitely lived in, but it had everything they needed and plenty of room for the five of them. He'd set them up with a manager of sorts, a guy called Bucky who was a few years older than them, with enough experience to know what he was doing but in need of a break himself. He'd be joining for some of the bigger dates, staying on the bus occasionally.

'You packed all your girl stuff yet?' Vince asked, leaning over Deacon to look at Rayna.

'I packed a week ago Vince. Have you thrown a spare pair of boxers and a bottle opener in a bag or are you not quite there yet?'

'I'm almost done, sugar,' he said, feigning indignation. He sat back. 'Just gotta remember the boxers. You got any clean ones I can borrow Deac?'

'You gotta watch him, Ray. He'll start tryin' to wear yours when he runs out of mine. Trust me.'

The opening credits of Flashdance started up in the video recorder, and they settled in for a night of calm before the chaos started. Barely halfway through, Deacon felt Rayna's head fall against his shoulder. He peered down at her to see her eyes closed, her mouth parted a little.

'Would you look at that,' he laughed quietly, nudging Vince. 'She makes us watch a chick flick and falls asleep on us.'

'This is why you never let a girl choose the movie.'

'Lesson learned. You'd think I'd seen enough Molly Ringwald to have figured that out sooner.'

'You wanna turn it off?'

Deacon looked at the screen. 'No,' he admitted, 'I kinda wanna see the dancin' part.'

Vince snickered. 'I won't tell Rayna you said that. Your feminine side stays between you and me, sweetheart.'

They tipped their whiskey glasses at each other, avoiding a clink so they wouldn't wake Rayna. Deacon watched the actors on the screen, half following the story, half revelling in the feel of Rayna leaning against him. He shifted slightly so he could tuck her under his arm, and she burrowed into him, her hand resting on his chest. When he turned back to the TV, Vince was watching him silently.

'What?' he asked, a little defensive.

'You need to be careful there.'

'The hell you talkin' about, be careful?'

There was no teasing edge to Vince's tone, no glimmer of a joke in his eye. He looked at Deacon squarely. 'This girl is different from us,' he said in a low voice. 'You saw her sister - she comes from a whole other world. And you and me don't belong in it. She ain't ever gonna be yours, Deac.'

Rayna sighed lightly, and curled a little more into Deacon, her head in the crook of his neck. He avoided Vince's gaze, trying not to think about how good her hair smelled so close to his face. He didn't know what to say to that - it was true, all of it, and he hated that he was all too aware of it. Somehow the words being said out loud made them heavy, real.

'That said,' Vince added, letting the tension evaporate as thought it had never been there, 'I wouldn't mind a pop at Tandy. She is a _fine_ woman. I could handle bein' her piece of rough.'

Deacon rolled his eyes. 'You're unbelievable.'

'So the ladies tell me. I think she likes me, I felt a spark.'

'I'm surprised you didn't feel her hand across your damn face.'

Vince laced his fingers and stretched them above his head, cracking his knuckles. 'I wish. I'd have dined out on that for weeks.' He got up from the couch and headed for the bathroom. 'Enjoy your dance movie, I gotta take a leak. And find some of your boxers to pack.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Took forever to update - oops ;)**

The sun was only half-risen when Rayna woke. Lazy light edged around the blinds, filling the room with the stillness only found at dawn. Rayna stirred under the covers, stretching her toes into the cool no man's land at the bottom of the bed.

The night her father had given her his ultimatum, do as he say or get out, she'd called Deacon. He'd brought her home to his house and led her, while she trembled and said little, to his room, tucking her into his bed and pulling an extra throw over her to make sure she was warm enough. She'd shivered anyway, and he'd sat on the edge of the bed murmuring soothing words until she'd fallen into a tense sleep.

The sheets had smelled strongly of him that night, Rayna remembered, musky and crisp. It had comforted her as she'd cried into his pillow, her father's harsh words ringing in her ears. He'd washed them the next day, making the bed up freshly for her to call her own for as long as she needed to, but his scent had still been there; fainter, and mingled with detergent, but still there.

She wondered, as she turned onto her belly and slid her hands under the pillow, if they smelled of her now, maybe of both of them. Something about the thought made her flush with warmth, and she let herself, just for a moment, picture Deacon on the couch in the next room. It wasn't quite long enough to accommodate his body, and his feet dangled over the edge of one arm. She'd tried to swap with him, being shorter and smaller, more couch-appropriate sized, but he wouldn't have it, no matter how many times she brought it up.

But it was Thursday, and Thursday meant they were leaving town, couches and beds and all.

Rayna lifted her head to check the clock on the side table: 5am. In four hours they would be meeting at Soundcheck to board their bus and head off to all that awaited them. Deacon had a bunk of his own, and Rayna had made him get in it the day before to test it out and make sure there was enough room for all of him. The master suite was small but cosy, and she'd packed more clothes than would probably fit in there, but she couldn't wait to make it her own.

She looked over at the suitcases that were standing upright by the door, waiting impatiently to be wheeled out of the house and on their way. She would miss the Deacon-smell though. Scanning the room as though someone might witness her indulgence, she curled onto her side and gathered the covers around her, cocooning herself and breathing them in.

Four hours later, when she pulled the suitcases out of the front door and let Deacon load them into his truck, she smiled to herself at the thought of the pillowcase she'd stashed between her t-shirts and clean pyjamas.

###

It was surprisingly busy in the Soundcheck parking lot for a time of day Rayna would have expected most musicians to still be in bed. Cars rumbled in and out, people carrying instruments and pushing road cases, yelling directions to each other and running this way and that.

Almost all of the commotion was for Randy's tour; silver buses were lined up with their trunks open while roadies loaded them up, huge trucks filled enough parking spaces for a fleet of cars each. Randy's bus was the plushest, his face emblazoned on the side and his entourage milling around it making sure everything was stocked just right.

'I can't believe we get to be part of this,' Rayna breathed, walking alongside Deacon towards the corner of the lot where their own bus was.

'Me either,' he said, giving her hand a brief squeeze. They'd parked where they could find a spot and he was loaded up with bags, most of them hers - she was never one to pack lightly. Vince trailed along behind them, the last of Rayna's suitcases in each of his hands, his own bag slung over his shoulder.

Watty greeted them at their bus. He was joining them the first couple of nights to see how they went, and he'd check in at some dates along the way, but was driving himself. His days of confined spaces and instant coffee were over, he'd said, though Rayna knew he was barely her father's age, and he was an active musician himself alongside his burgeoning mogul status.

She was sure the real reason was that he didn't want to cramp her style on her first time out, that there were things she should experience for herself. 'Lessons learned on the road can't be taught, they have to be lived,' he'd told her once. 'You find out who you are as an artist when the wheels are moving under your feet.'

He'd also enlisted Deacon to look out for her, she suspected. She hadn't heard either of them mention anything of the sort, but she'd seen the looks that had passed between them in recent weeks and they were enough. It gave her a warm, comforted feeling, though she'd never admit it.

They piled their stuff into their bunks, Rayna's into her little room, so much nervous energy and excitement between them that they weren't at all sure how they'd be able to sit long enough to reach the first venue. People were starting to pull out onto the street, honking their horns as they set off, buses following each other towards the highway, and they stood watching as the parade got underway.

'Where you think our driver is?' Kennedy asked, scanning the lot.

'Ask after the devil and she'll show up, honey.'

'Who is that?' Vince side-whispered, eyeing the woman walking towards them. She was in no hurry, a supersize coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

'Menthol,' she said, taking a last drag and tossing it on the ground. Rayna watched her stub it out with the toe of the most robust-looking cowboy boots she'd ever seen on a woman. 'Gave up last year, was gettin' huskier than a dog shelter. Name's Barb, you can call me ma'am.'

'Are you our driver?' Deacon asked. 'Ma'am?'

'Sure am. You must be lead guitar.'

He mumbled an affirmative after a beat, confused. Barb looked him up and down, neither appreciative nor disapproving, and gave a brisk nod. 'Guitar player's always the pretty one.'

Vince snorted at Deacon's side, shoving him with his shoulder.

'Let me guess,' Barb said, turning her attention to him. 'Hair hasn't seen a comb since your mother last bathed you, got that tattoo on your arm there after too many Jacks and you'd forgotten who Cindy was by the next mornin', but you tell people she was the girl who broke your heart anyway. Probably got a song or two about her.' She tilted her head, squinting at him. 'You're back-up guitar. Maybe dabble in a bit of drums, fancy yourself a closet frontman in a rock band one day.'

Vince's eyes widened, and he scrunched his face sheepishly, rubbing his arm where the swirly letters spelled out _Cindy_ in dark red ink. Deacon shoved him back.

'And you,' Barb said, turning to face Rayna where she stood on Deacon's other side, somewhat terrified, 'you must be Rayna.' Her face broke into a wide smile, and suddenly she looked less like an intimidating trucker and more like someone who baked cookies on a Sunday morning. 'Sweet as pie, just like Watty said. You can call me Barb, darlin'.'

Rayna smiled back at her, taking an instant liking to her. 'You know Watty?'

'Only since he was in diapers. And I'll tell you, don't be fooled by Watty White - his mama's got a grey hair for every Cindy he ever forgot, too.' She winked at Rayna and threw a small suitcase into the hold. 'He couldn't have you bein' the only woman on a bus full of stinkin' men though. You an' me gotta stick together, sweetheart.'

As much as Rayna wouldn't have chosen anyone else to be on tour with, she felt a wave of gratitude that Barb was joining them. Tandy had been the mother figure in her life for the past few years and since Rayna had left her father's house, it was the biggest thing she missed.

Barb turned back to them, her expansive hips wedged against the doorframe of the bus. 'Y'all comin' or you decided to sit this tour out?'

They scurried after her, filing one by one up the steps while she adjusted her seat and made herself comfortable.

'You ready?' Deacon asked quietly when they sat down ready to set off. Rayna nodded on a deep breath, nerves flitting through her.

'Ready as I'll ever be. I don't think I'll really know until we play the first couple of shows.'

But she was wrong. She knew the minute the engine started up and the wheels began to roll out of the parking lot: she'd never been more ready for anything in her life.

###

Charlotte, North Carolina, 400 miles away in an almost straight line. Deacon looked at it on the foldout roadmap they'd brought with them, little swirls in Rayna's hand on each of the places they'd be stopping. There were so many of them it looked almost like the map had freckles. He turned it over; the ink had soaked through to the other side, and he liked it better, maybe, the enigma of it. Who ever really knew where they were going?

'Peein' on this bus is gonna be a problem. I just christened the bathroom for y'all, and I'm sorry to say it - mostly to you Rayna, bein' a lady and all - but it looks like the roof sprung a leak in there.'

Vince swayed back towards the long couches that ran along each side of the living area. They were foam-stuffed and patterned like something out of the 70s - Rayna was pretty sure her maternal Grandmother had had curtains just like them when she was a kid.

'You sure it wasn't you who sprung a leak Vince?' Kennedy said, slapping him on the shoulder.

'It's a good thing I have another bathroom in the back. Girls only, we can aim better.' Rayna tucked her legs under her and twisted the cap off a bottle of water.

'Hey, I got great aim,' Deacon teased. 'I think I should be exempt from that rule.'

'You hadn't changed your sheets for months before Rayna moved in, you're just as much of a slob as the rest of us.'

'You been hangin' out in my bed Vince?'

'Only when you're not in it.'

'How long have you three lived together?' Jimmy asked, flicking the radio on and twisting the dial to a local station playing some Willie Nelson.

'A few months,' Rayna said. 'I'll be findin' a place when we get back though, I've stayed far longer than I meant to.'

Deacon looked down at his hands. They'd had the conversation, briefly - she'd brought it up and he'd assured her there was no need for her to go anywhere, but he knew she didn't want to impose on them. The truth was, Rayna living with him and Vince had been the best few months he'd known, and he couldn't imagine waking up in a morning and not seeing her tumble out of his bedroom with her hair all messed up.

'Maybe we could find a bigger place,' he suggested, 'somewhere with enough room for the three of us.'

The look Vince gave him was subtle, caught by no one else, but Deacon knew exactly what it meant. Vince had loved having Rayna live with them almost as much as he had, but it was different, and they were both aware of it, no matter how much Deacon skirted the acknowledgement. He would do anything for her, anything to keep her in his life as much as possible, and it wasn't just as a roommate or a writing partner.

'Y'all need to stop and stretch your legs?' Barb called from up front. A chorus of agreement answered her and the bus slowed, swerving into a gas station at the side of the road.

They piled onto the hot tarmac, cicadas loud all around them. Best they ease into life on the road with regular stops to get their bearings, Barb told them, tossing her cap onto the driver's seat and disappearing into the vaguely air-conditioned diner. They were making good ground - Charlotte was three or so hours away, and they were scheduled to arrive just before dinner time. Their first show was the following night, so that everyone on the tour would have chance to run through soundcheck and final polishes in the concert hall.

'Hey,' Deacon said, catching Rayna's elbow so she hung back from the group with him while they trailed after Barb. 'You know you don't have to leave when we get back, Ray. It just... it wouldn't be the same without you now.'

Rayna smiled at him, hooking his forefinger with hers for a brief moment. 'Whatever happens when we get back to Nashville, it's not important now. This bus is our new home, and this is all that matters.'

He looked up at the big hunk of metal, the fumy heat it was giving off somehow already comforting. Their new home.

###

Arriving the evening before the first show was a luxury, so they'd been told. They stayed the first night in the same hotel as the rest of the tour, in considerably more basic rooms than Randy's entourage and the other support act, the opener they were opening for. They'd been given twin rooms, the boys sharing in pairs, Rayna in her own, something she felt more than guilty about, but hotels were to be a rarity on their journey across the country.

Rayna didn't sleep a wink. She stared at the clock on the rickety bedside table so hard the numbers blurred, trying to make herself stay in bed until the sun rose, going over and over lyrics in her head. When the light outside finally started to turn, she jumped out from under the covers and showered, too eager to take her time.

She was one of the first people in the dining room for breakfast, only a handful of crew scattered around looking like their coffee cups were life support machines. There was one familiar face though: Deacon sat by a window, staring outside at nothing, his hands wrapped around a cup. There was a plate of untouched food in front of him, a pile of crunchy bacon and some eggs that looked like they'd been sat there a week.

'You slept well too, huh?' she asked, pulling out the chair opposite him. He jumped a little, startled out of whatever his thoughts had been.

'Like a baby,' he said, his face softening into a rueful smile. 'Pancake?'

He slid his breakfast towards her, and she nibbled on a little piece he'd cut off and abandoned.

'I already feel like I could throw up,' she said, struggling to swallow it and pushing the plate back to him. She leaned on her elbows and looked out of the window at whatever he hadn't been seeing. 'Are we really doin' this Deacon?'

He took a deep breath. 'Yup. We really are.'

They had a short slot in the soundcheck schedule that afternoon for a one-shot run through of their set after Randy had done his full-show rehearsal. They could go and watch, Watty told them, and they jumped at the chance.

The sound of the band warming up thrummed underneath their feet; Rayna shivered, sitting on one of the creaky seats down in the stalls with her shoes off and her knees pulled up under her chin.

'They're good,' Jimmy said, halfway through the opening song, sounding intimidated.

'Of course they are.' Vince fidgeted in his seat, their collective nerves palpable.

Rayna, though, started to feel something shift. She leaned forward, forearms on the back of the seat in front of her, and watched intently. With every note and every direction, adrenaline coursed through her, but it no longer translated into the trepidation she'd been feeling. It fuelled her until she could no longer sit, and she jumped up and paced the aisle, eyes fixed on the stage she couldn't wait to get up on.

 _This is how it's done_ , she thought. Watching the professionals was exactly how you learned to be one.

###

It happened in a blur. The biggest show Rayna and Deacon had done before had been just north of a hundred people at one of the bars in downtown Nashville. That had felt huge, a Saturday night crowd, tip jar full after their seven songs.

It was a different thing altogether performing in a concert hall with a capacity of ten thousand. About half of them were in their seats when the lights went down, the rest milling at the bars on the foyer, but even half full there were a hell of a lot more than a hundred people watching them make their debut.

They were receptive, paying more attention the further Rayna and the band got into their set, and Deacon had dared to look out at some of the faces he could see in the front few rows. Some people were dancing, swaying along, some standing to get a better view. One woman started to sing along once she got the hang of a chorus, and Deacon nudged Rayna, watching her beam brightly when she saw.

Rayna was made to be on the stage. The bars they'd played had always made her shine, but the way she commanded a real stage, how she projected herself out into the entire audience, even if it wasn't yet packed to the rafters, was something beyond a seventeen year old first-timer. Deacon was intoxicated by it; he couldn't take his eyes off her as they performed, and he found himself craving the energy that rolled off her. She invited him into it, the beckoning as earnest as it was seductive, and he would write song after song to try to understand what happened when he accepted.

There was just something about Rayna. He'd seen it the very first time he'd met her, but he'd spent the past year and a half watching her start to see it too, watching her spread into the corners of herself with the curiosity of a child and the fever of a woman who wanted everything all at once, and was powerless and unwilling to slow herself down.

Twenty-five minutes passed like a breath. The comedown, he knew, would take far longer, and as he raced down the stairs he felt reckless, drunk on the feeling. Rayna whirled to face him and he saw the same thing in her eyes, wild and wide and full of joy.

'I can't believe that just happened,' she yelled over the thundering of the crowd as the next support emerged onto the stage. The atmosphere was palpable, electricity all around them. 'That was _crazy_!'

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her easily, her laughter in his ear. 'You're amazin',' he marvelled, and when he put her down she reached up and stroked his cheek; the feeling was mutual.

'I couldn't have gotten up there without you,' she said.

Kennedy appeared beside them, wiping sweat from his brow. 'I could get used to this, I swear.'

'I'd say you'll probably get the chance. Great job up there.' Randy's drummer walked up beside them and clapped Deacon on the shoulder. 'Claybourne, right? Some skill you got.'

'Thanks,' Deacon said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders, always uncomfortable when paid a compliment.

'We haven't been properly introduced - Brett. Been out on the road with Randy a couple of years now. Y'all are in for a lotta fun.'

Brett held up his hand in a collective greeting, but extended it to Rayna and tipped his head at her when she shook it.

'You must be Rayna - I heard you were joinin' us. My brother saw you play at the Bluebird a couple of months back, had good things to say about you.'

Deacon watched him hang onto Rayna's hand too long. He had a towel slung around his neck and for the life in him, Deacon couldn't work out what the purpose of it was when he wasn't due on stage for over an hour.

'Oh, that was me and Deacon,' Rayna told him, gesturing to him with her free hand. 'We've played the Bluebird a couple of times now, just a Tuesday night but it's so hard to get on the bill there.'

'Uh huh,' Brett said. He finally let go but didn't look away from her. She seemed unperturbed by it, but Vince glanced at Deacon with a raised eyebrow.

'That really your first show together?'

'As a band, yeah,' Deacon interjected. 'Ray and I play together a lot back home.'

'Right,' Brett replied, looking him up and down slowly. 'Well, welcome to the tour. Y'all need anythin', you just ask.' He ran a hand through his floppy hair, already slick with sweat, or maybe it was gel. 'Stick around and watch the show, gonna be a good one!'

He gripped both ends of his towel, flexing the muscles in his arms, and winked at Rayna as he walked away.

###

Their first night sleeping on the bus was strange, and exciting. Rayna's ears were still ringing when she eventually tore herself away from everyone and headed to bed. She lay on her back staring up at the ceiling, bone-tired and too exhilarated to sleep.

They were on their way to Atlanta, and she couldn't wait to get back at it. Every time she'd done a show in Nashville she'd been impatient for the next one, but the feeling was nowhere near as fierce as this.

The bus was already messy and theirs. Rayna's shoes spilled out of her room and cluttered every corner, dirty bowls of half-eaten Smash were stacked up in the kitchen. She hadn't been able to take a step without finding a discarded guitar pick, but she'd become used to that, living with Deacon the past few months. They'd unpacked as much as they were likely to, her tour outfits hung up in the compact wardrobe in her room, everything else stuffed in the suitcases that were wedged around and under her bed.

The boys had chosen their bunks, and Rayna had test-driven one of them to try it out for size. It was pretty comfortable, she had to admit, and there was room to stretch her toes out and still not touch the edge. Her own bed was bigger than a single, not quite a double, and she'd swapped one of the pale yellow pillowcases for the one she'd smuggled from Deacon's room back home.

She was surprised, as she lay there re-playing the night over and over, to find her eyes closing, the bus rocking her easily into a deep sleep. When she woke it was morning and they were stationary, parked outside the next venue. She rolled onto her side and moved the blind aside, peering through the crack. The sun was out, the parking lot still and quiet, for the moment.

###

The gaggle of fans waiting outside the venues was ever-present. They were in every new city, always there at the gates when the fleet of buses and trucks arrived and still there when they left, hours, sometimes days, later.

They wore t-shirts with Randy's face on, previous tour dates listed on their backs and posters clutched in their hands for him to sign. Rayna stared out of the bus windows at them wondering if there would ever come a day they'd be there for her.

They had a long way to go, but a couple of the early reviews of the show had mentioned them, favourably so, and she'd about burst reading her name there in black and white. _Keep an eye on this girl_ , one had said. She'd ripped the column out and stashed it away inside a pocket in her purse.

So far they'd seen little of the cities they were playing, mostly the roads leading in and out of them and the first restaurant or cafe they stumbled upon to grab food before a show. They were quickly learning that the majority of free time on a tour was that spent in transit to the next town, but there was the occasional travel day or overnighter, and aftershow parties were thrown as standard to celebrate. Rayna wasn't sure they counted as free time exactly, given that she'd been commandeered by Watty to be introduced to industry people at every one.

It didn't matter though - she was happy as could be, and seeing the country through rolling windows was fascinating to her. Each place smelled different when they stepped out into the air, dry and hot and honeysuckle, sweet and musky and humid, cool and fresh with pines, and each crowd was unique in their own way. She watched the whole show from the side of the stage every night, Deacon always beside her, taking in the audience as much as the performances - their faces, their screams, the particular choruses they sang louder than others.

Music was everywhere, all the time. It was Rayna's own version of heaven; she woke to the sound of guitars in the living room of the bus, and drank her morning coffee with bleary eyes and a happy heart. Soundchecks, shows, musty winding corridors echoing with the tuning of instruments. Old favourite classics they sang into the small hours of the morning, in hotel rooms, on the bus - Johnny and June and George, mile after mile.

Rayna wrote every day. She was brimming with songs, pushing herself further and playing with new styles and forms. She wrote most of them with Deacon, who was just as inspired, and somehow they were taking everything that had worked so naturally between them from the beginning and ripping it open wider than they could have imagined.

Maybe it was the freedom of the road, maybe it was something else entirely, but they didn't question it. She sat closer to him when she scribbled lyrics, he rested his arm on her knee when he tuned his guitar. No one in their band said a thing.

###

'I can't wait for you to get out here and see the show, Tandy. It's just as much fun as I hoped it was gonna be. And you should see Randy, he's such a great performer. I'm learning a lot from him.'

'I'll be there in a few weeks, babe. And I can't wait either, it's quiet without you in town.'

Rayna twisted the wire of the payphone around her finger. The gas stations were all starting to look the same, dusty and forgotten, the coffee bitter and the restrooms questionable. She'd lost track of where exactly they were currently.

'How's Daddy?' she asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

Tandy paused on the other end. 'You know, he's Daddy. He fired another secretary.'

'What did this one do?'

'She didn't photocopy on the right kind of paper, apparently.'

Rayna rolled her eyes so hard she almost sprained her neck. 'Glad to hear he's keepin' well, then.' She popped her gum and propped one foot behind her on the grimy glass of the booth, inspecting a bruise on her knee.

'Some things never change,' Tandy said, and there was another pause. 'He misses you, Rayna. He doesn't say it but I know he does. He hasn't been quite himself since you left.'

'Since I left town or since I left his house?'

'You know he didn't want you to move out of the house.'

The bus was parked up over the other side of the gas pumps. Barb was leaning against it, smoking a menthol cigarette, though Rayna was sure she'd smelled tobacco on her more than once. She watched her take a deep drag, closing her eyes with relish as she blew the smoke up into the air.

'He didn't give me much choice, Tandy. If I wanted to spend forever doing exactly as he says, then sure, I could have stayed. But I don't, so I didn't. And now I'm on a huge tour, livin' my _life_. This is what I wanted. I wasn't going to let him keep this from me.'

She heard Tandy sigh into the receiver. 'I know, sweetheart, and I'm right behind you, you know that. But think about it, I mean what are you gonna do what you come home? You can't keep living with Deacon and his waster friend - people down at the Country Club are talking, Rayna.'

'Are you kiddin' me with that? I don't care what people at the damn Country Club are sayin', Tandy, come on,'

'I know you don't, but Daddy does, and… this is a small town, people form opinions and it's hard to shake them. And you living with two _older_ boys, at seventeen, I mean, it doesn't look good. If this music career doesn't work out, you don't want your reputation to keep you from finding a real job. Daddy would let you move back in, I can talk to him.'

'Tandy, I don't want you to talk to him, okay? I'm not movin' back in, I don't give a damn what anyone's bullshit opinions are, and this music career _is_ a real job. Look, I love you, but I have to go. I'll see you in Louisville.'

She hung up before her sister could say another word, slamming the receiver down a little too hard. A homemade flyer for Bobby's Nip 'N' Truck automobile repair shop flew off the glass and Rayna trampled on it when she stormed out of the booth towards the bus.

'Hey,' Deacon said as she swept past him. 'Ray? You okay?'

'I'm fine,' she said, without looking back, and he knew better than to go after her when she thudded up the steps and into her room. It was one of the only times she'd closed her bedroom door when she wasn't going to sleep.

/

They'd been driving for so many hours Deacon had stopped seeing anything out of the window. The night beyond it was grey, thick clouds muting a near-full moon, and only headlights from occasional oncoming trucks disturbed the monotony.

He'd laid in his bunk for a couple of hours listening to the gradual snores of his bandmates as they'd fallen asleep around him, his mind on Rayna, who hadn't come back out of her room. He didn't know what had upset her but she'd been more relaxed on the road than he'd ever seen her, so he guessed it had to be related to her family back home.

They'd taken to the lifestyle on the road like they were made for it, and he'd been soaking up every moment of the experience, and every moment of Rayna. Something was happening with her that he knew he would never be able to understand fully if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes; she was shedding layers, with every mile, every song they wrote, every new city they came to - doubt, pain, naivety. Underneath were all the things he'd seen in her all along, but they were becoming brighter and keener than he could have imagined.

The most incredible part of it was that he was right there with her; she was unfolding with one hand in his. With every unspoken revelation they grew closer, and it was like nothing he'd ever known. It was there, that _something_ , every moment, but when they sang together it erupted. Every time they stepped onto the stage it was as though the air between them was sucked away and they were inexplicably pulled together, the intensity of it startling. A feeling in Deacon's blood was growing and he didn't know where to begin to decipher it. So he didn't try.

'You couldn't sleep either?'

He looked up, and there she was. Rayna, in cotton shorts and a loose t-shirt, her hair crumpled in all directions. She rubbed her face and dropped onto the couch next to him, pulling her legs up and resting her head on her knees, looking at him through tired eyes.

'Not a wink,' he said. 'You okay?'

She didn't answer, just stared out of the window. He reached for her hand, and her lips tilted into the shadow of a smile.

'My sister thinks I'm wasting my time on this tour. She thinks this is something I'll get out of my system, just a whimsy.'

'She said that?'

'She said Daddy wants me to move home. I'm shamin' the family.'

Deacon watched her shoulders tense, waiting for her to say more. Her grasp on his hand tightened.

'My mother would have understood. She would have supported me doing this. Tandy and my father, they just… they don't get it. They don't get _me_.'

'I don't know about your daddy, Ray, but Tandy, she _wants_ to understand at least. She wants to know you.'

'She doesn't, Deacon, not really. She wants to know the me she wants me to be. Since Momma died she's changed, she's become so much more like Daddy. She always was, but I don't know, it's different.' She turned her face further towards the window but he saw her eyes water anyway. 'It's all different.'

'Don't write your sister off, Ray. She's not like you, but she lost your Momma too. Sounds to me like she's afraid to really see you, because if she does, she might just see more of your Momma than she can handle.'

Rayna lifted her head and looked at him. After a moment she nodded, thoughtful.

'Sometimes I feel like I don't have a family anymore,' she whispered. 'You know?'

Deacon took in a breath. 'Yeah, I do.'

An understanding passed between them and Rayna lowered her knees, making herself more open to him, more vulnerable. He could see her eyes in the dark, big and round and fixed on him.

'Do you ever get lonely Deacon?'

He'd never asked himself that question, and he thought about it for a moment, but he didn't really need to - his answer was already clear. 'Before, yeah,' he said, 'but since I met you? Not at all.'

She smiled, still holding onto his hand. 'We're each other's family now,' she said in a tiny voice, and he felt his heart contract. She was like a balm to all the broken parts of him, her sweet face full of love and obvious affection for him. No one had ever looked at him the way Rayna did.

'Come on,' he said, his throat cracking slightly, 'I'll tuck you in.'

He stood and tugged her up with him, and together they walked towards her room, the door still ajar as she'd left it. He pulled back the covers and she slipped between them, and for a brief moment he let himself sit on the edge of her bed. She lay on her back, her hair splaying out onto the pillow, and held his gaze.

There in the dimness, the sound of the engine and her soft breathing all he could hear, a million miles away from their lives and right there at the heart of them, Deacon felt an overwhelming urge to lean down and kiss her.

He cleared his throat, trying to calm the thrum in his ears, and stood quickly, whispering a goodnight. It was as he turned away that he felt her hand on his arm.

'Stay with me?'

He hesitated and she sat up, scooting over to make room for him. She looked up at him with those eyes, and he knew he would have given her anything she wanted, said yes to any whim.

'You can't sleep, I can't sleep - we may as well not-sleep together, in a comfortable bed.' She patted the mattress beside her, and he was a goner.

When he woke the next morning, her head was against his shoulder, her body happily prone as she slept soundly next to him.

He slipped out of the bed before he could let himself think about how warm her skin was.

###

Brett had drummed in bands for years, and he'd seen a lot of attractive girls come and go. He'd slept with half of them - maybe slightly more than half - and boy did he make the most of that what-happens-in-Vegas attitude that came with being on the road.

Rayna Jaymes was something he wanted, bad. He watched all of her performances, and she was getting better and better. Best thing about it was the better she got, the hotter she became. Her confidence was soaring and he was pretty sure her shorts were getting shorter as it did.

Or maybe he was just staring more closely at her ass.

She was younger than him, he wasn't sure how young exactly but as long as she was over sixteen - and he was pretty sure she was, based on the contents of those white vests she threw on for soundchecks - any extra years were just spare change.

The only problem, he figured, was the guitar player. He wasn't sure what their relationship was, and he'd been watching them, trying to decipher how much of a threat the guy was to his chances. They didn't seem to be screwing - Claybourne would surely look at her with less of a pained expression if he was getting some.

Brett decided to seize his moment to dig during a breezy afternoon when they had time to kill before the night's show. Not enough time to do anything other than piss about in the venue, but enough that Rayna was up on the stage freestyling with a couple of roadies while they were at a loose end. She had a pair of cowboy boots on, those lean legs perfectly tanned, and she was clearly having the time of her life. Every time she threw her head back and laughed freely his jeans got a little tight.

'She's quite somethin', huh?' he said deliberately, sidling up beside Deacon, who was leaning against a road case in the wings. When Brett got closer he saw the slack smile on his face as he watched Rayna, and cursed internally.

Deacon looked over at him in slight surprise at the disturbance of his apparent fantasies. 'She sure is.'

Letting the budding bromance flourish for a minute or two might get him a bit looser, Brett thought, so he stood and folded his arms, mirroring him in what he thought was a comradely kind of way.

'Pretty nice Martin the fella with all the hair's got there. Quite a piece of wood, am I right?'

Deacon nodded a little wistfully, and Brett mentally awarded himself a point. Fuck it, that'd do.

'So Rayna, what's the deal there? She single?'

He thought maybe he'd gone for it a bit too soon - Deacon's jaw tensed so much that he could see the vein in his neck bulge. He just about managed to stop himself holding up his hands in surrender so the guy didn't pop him one. So they definitely weren't screwing - if he'd been able to get his hands on that girl he wouldn't be nearly so insecure about a brother wanting to get into her pants.

'I guess,' Deacon just about got out in reply, through some pretty gritted teeth.

That was all Brett needed to hear. He nodded in satisfaction, ignored Deacon's glare as he gave Rayna one last up and down, and walked off to go crack open a beer.

###

The Saturday night Oklahoma show was a big one, the loudest yet, and the first of three over the weekend.

They were staying in a hotel a few blocks away that had been completely taken over by the tour, with familiar faces everywhere and polite staff tolerating the never-ending stream of musicians and equipment in and out.

The aftershow was being held in a bar downtown, doubling as a birthday celebration for Randy's guitarist, and it was the first party Watty hadn't been able to make. Rayna was excited to let her hair down, and she raced back to her room while Randy was doing his encore to touch up her make-up and change. She pulled off her stage outfit and threw her boots into a corner, and stood, hands on hips, before a row of three suitcases. They were propped open against the wall, each brimming with clothes, piles upon piles of outfits, odd shoes tumbling out onto the floor, crumpled shirts and legs of jeans trying to make a bid for freedom.

'I have _nothing_ to wear,' she'd told the boys as she'd dashed through the lobby towards the elevator to get to their floor, and they'd humoured her, having been the ones to carry the offending suitcases in from the bus.

She dropped to her knees and started to rummage, considering and discounting things as she went, holding up skirts and tops and tossing them blindly behind her when they just weren't right.

And then she saw a flash of shimmering black at the bottom of one of the cases, underneath the neatly folded clothes she hadn't yet gotten to since she'd left home. She tugged on it, pulling the garment free. It was the dress she'd seen on her shopping trip with Tandy, the one she'd wanted to get for Rayna. It seemed she had.

Rayna shook her head, suddenly homesick, wishing she could close her eyes and her sister appear. She hadn't called Tandy since their fight, and she'd made herself as hard to get in touch with as she could, wanting to affirm that her decisions were hers alone to make.

She slipped the dress over her head; it fit perfectly, just like Tandy had known it would.

/

The bar was dim and smoky, with low ceilings and exposed pipes, populated with the kind of leather booths that had seen better days. It was on the edge of town, quiet enough to be private, lively enough to host a good time, and they'd hopped in a cab from the hotel, taking in the sights of Oklahoma City as they'd driven through its streets.

Rayna hopped up onto a high stool at the bar, thankful she'd always been tall for her age.

'A coke, please,' she said to the barman who took one look at her cleavage and almost fell over himself to serve her.

'I can order you a real drink, you know,' Vince said, wedging himself on the stool next to her and signalling that he wanted a round of whiskey shots. He slapped a handful of dollars down to cover the shots and the coke.

'This is a real drink. And that looks like it tastes awful.' She watched him down a generous measure and grimace in satisfaction when he slammed the glass back on the bar.

'It tastes like all the things you wanna do but don't got the balls to,' he said, sliding a shot in front of her. 'Must be a couple of those, right?'

She swilled the amber liquid around dubiously. 'It smells like paint stripper.'

'You'll get used to it.' He lifted another glass for himself and clinked it with hers in a toast. 'On the count of three we drink to that dress, and all the hearts you're breakin' in it.'

She tipped her head back when he got to three, copying the way he tossed the liquor down his throat in one go.

'I think I got a defective one,' she wheezed in repulsion, reaching for her coke when the burn kicked in. Vince chuckled and waited for her to finish gagging.

When she jumped off the stool and followed him back to their booth, her head felt pleasantly woozy. Someone put a quarter in the jukebox next to the bar and hit play on a Johnny Cash track, and she smiled to herself, thinking maybe Vince was right, the whiskey wasn't so bad; her bones felt heavy and she kind of liked it.

'Supper,' Vince announced, setting the tray of drinks down on their table.

Deacon hadn't taken his eyes off Rayna since she'd walked into the hotel lobby to meet them. He'd had trouble saying much all night, and she felt his stare again as she slipped into the seat next to Kennedy, who was talking to the fiddle player from the other support act. She glanced back at Deacon and he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat and reaching for a shot. He made it look so easy, one tip and one swallow, and she watched him lick his lips to snag any missed drops.

'Any takers for a round of pool?'

Jimmy grabbed Rayna's hand before she could decline and led her to an empty table. He handed her a pool cue and a little blue cube of chalk, and she looked at it uncertainly.

'What do I do with this?'

'You chalk your cue with it,' he said, showing her how, and she mimicked him.

'And then you hit the balls,' Vince said, leaning on the edge of the table while Jimmy filled a plastic triangle. 'You never played pool before Rayna, not even as a kid?'

'You've never met my father, have you?' She kicked off her heels. 'I learned to golf when I was six though, does that count?'

'Depends - was it crazy golf?'

She laughed. 'So this is a guy's idea of a good time - hittin' balls with sticks and drinkin' paint stripper?'

'And lookin' at girls,' Jimmy threw in.

'Yup. Those are the sure-fire ingredients for a night of fun.' Vince watched her twist the chalk on the end of her cue again, steadier this time. 'I got a feelin' you're gonna be good at this.'

'Well I don't like to lose,' Rayna said, flashing him a dangerous smile.

'What do you say we crank this up a notch, fellas, put a little money on this? A twenty on your bet to win, loser buys the next round.' Vince pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his Levi's.

Rayna looked at Deacon, who had picked up a cue himself and was leaning on it, chewing his bottom lip.

'My money's on her,' he said, eyes fixed on her, and she felt herself shiver.

'You take the first shot,' she told Jimmy, and he obliged, stepping forward and knocking a yellow into the pocket closest to him.

Rayna leaned over the table, not caring how low-cut her dress was, and focused on the white ball. She did as Jimmy had done, slid the cue through her thumb and forefinger until it looked like it was in about the right place, and slammed it forwards, hard. It hit a bunch of clogged balls, and two of them disappeared down opposite pockets.

'Not bad,' Vince said with a low whistle, 'not bad at all.'

She felt Deacon's eyes following her as she picked up her chalk again.

/

She wandered over to the jukebox when she grew bored of teasing Vince and Jimmy for being beaten by a girl, and left them trying to out-do Deacon, the night's reigning champion. Their games had attracted quite a crowd, and it turned out Vince had been somewhat right - hitting balls with sticks did make for a pretty good time.

Browsing through the songs, she sipped another glass of whiskey, this one with ice and a sprinkle of brown sugar, far more to her liking. She leaned against the machine, humming along to the old Loretta Lynn song the person before her had chosen and wondering how to follow such a classic.

'You here with the tour that's passin' through town?'

She turned around, and a bearded guy she'd seen talking to Randy's manager earlier held a glass of something clear out to her.

'Ahm, yeah, I am,' she said, shaking her head at the proffered drink.

'It's rum,' he said, moving closer. 'I figured you look like a rum kind of girl.'

'Oh? And what does a rum kind of girl look like?'

'Like someone I wanna get to know better.'

He slung his arm on the jukebox, leaning into her, and she frowned and tried to step out of his way, but he blocked her path.

'What song were you gonna choose?' he asked. 'Beautiful girl like you, I'll bet you were goin' for somethin' you can slow dance to. How about I show you how it's done?'

'Baby?'

She looked around him to see Deacon, his hand held out to her. She took it without thinking, and he pulled her gently towards him and put his arm around her shoulders.

'You pick a song baby?' he asked, and she shook her head, going along with whatever it was he was doing.

'I was just about to help her with that,' the bearded guy said, obviously displeased. 'You mind leavin' us to it?'

'I do mind, actually, yeah.'

'And who the hell are you?'

Deacon moved his arm from Rayna's shoulders to her waist. She'd never noticed quite how big his hands were until his fingers were curled around her hip.

'I'm her boyfriend,' he said.

The guy glared at Rayna. 'Whatever,' he scoffed, side-stepping them both. 'I'll be over here if you change your mind.'

'I'm not gonna change my mind,' she said, looking up at Deacon and letting herself melt into his warmth. 'Thanks for rescuin' me,' she mouthed when they were alone, and he smiled at her, but neither of them moved away.

'Asshole.' He leaned down close to her ear. 'Can't say I blame him though.'

'You can't?'

He reached over and pressed a button on the jukebox, and the opening chords of her favourite John Connolly song started up. 'No,' he said, and somehow his other hand found its way around her waist too. 'You're pretty irresistible.'

'Oh really?' she murmured, and she was sure his cheeks were pinker than usual. Maybe it was the whiskey, but she thought hers might be too. ' _You_ seem to be resisting just fine.'

Deacon looked at her intently, and the shake of his head was barely visible. 'By the skin of my damn teeth, Ray,' he whispered, so quietly she almost didn't hear him, and she would swear the next morning that she hadn't anyway.

But tonight, she let her arms wind around his neck, her body alight with tingles everywhere they touched, and they swayed to the rest of the song

/

The payphone outside the bar was dangling off its hook, like someone had tried to slam it down and missed. Rayna picked it up and fed a couple of quarters into the slot. She knew the number she wanted off by heart, and dialled it quickly, waiting for it to click and ring at the other end.

'Hello?' came the voice that answered, sounding groggy and more than a little pissed off.

'I'm sorry it's so late,' she said hurriedly, feeling like she might cry at the relief that washed over her. 'It's me.'

'I know it's you,' the voice replied, considerably softer. 'Of course I know it's you.'

She let a tear roll down her cheek. 'Hey Tandy.'


	3. Chapter 3

**_Thank you for the lovely reviews, they always make me smile!_**

 ** _Little change - I decided it was too soon for Bucky to appear in Rayna's life though he was mentioned in an earlier chapter, so he won't be a part of this story after all._**

The venue had been having technical issues all morning, and soundcheck was running so far behind it was looking like Rayna and the band would be bumped off the schedule altogether. It made Rayna nervous, Deacon could tell from the way she was twisting strands of her hair around her finger while they stood in the wings.

'You think they're gonna get it fixed?' she asked, watching the sound people flurry around with serious faces.

'They will, soon enough.'

'What if they don't get it done in time? I mean if we have to go straight into the show cold - we're first on, we could look so bad if we screw up.'

Deacon looked at her. She had both hands on her hips, her brow creased in a deep frown, and she was going to chew through her bottom lip any minute.

'Come on,' he said, and took her hand.

'Where are we going?'

He answered only with a grin, and she let him pull her down the corridor regardless and lead her out into the auditorium and down the aisle towards the foyer.

'This way.' He lifted a hand to greet the two women who were manning the box office; they waved back, and he heard Rayna snicker as he steered her towards the staircase that led up to the balcony.

'You are such a flirt, Deacon.'

He flashed her his best charming smoulder. 'Am I?'

She tried, not very hard, to hide an inadvertent flush with a roll of her eyes, and Deacon laughed, holding the door at the top of the stairs open for her.

'What are we doin' up here?'

He sat down in the very back row and motioned for her to do the same, pulling the seat of a chair open for her. 'We're gonna watch Randy soundcheck when they get the equipment workin'. See, Ray, when we're on that stage we can't quite see all the way back here. It's easy to forget there are people have paid their hard-earned cash to be entertained just like everybody right down in the front rows.'

Rayna leaned back, and Deacon watched her take in the thought, nodding slowly as her eyes followed Randy's manager who was yelling something to a tech guy. 'We must look like little ants from up here,' she mused.

'Yup.'

'You know, I've noticed how Randy holds himself. I hadn't been able to quite put my finger on it, but I get it now you say that - it's like he's singin' to every single person in this place.' She slipped her feet out of a battered once-white pair of Converse and rested them over the back of the seat in front of her, crossing them at the ankles. Her face was pensive. 'We're already three weeks into the tour, Deacon.'

'It's sure going fast,' he replied softly, feeling a pang. This was what he wanted for every day of his life, nothing but music, the open road. Rayna. He couldn't even think about going home.

'Almost halfway and we have so much to learn yet. We're still just little ants.'

Randy walked out on stage just then and Rayna glanced at Deacon, gifting him with a particular smile, the one that looked like she was sharing a secret.

'Barb told me she used to drive for Randy when he was starting out. You think she made him pick his dirty boxers up off the floor like she does Vince?'

Deacon laughed loudly, throwing his own legs up on the seat in front and nudging Rayna's feet with his.

'I'd put money on it.'

###

'I just loved your set tonight,' purred the towering blonde who'd been chatting with her friends on the neighbouring couch in the hotel bar. 'The things you can do with those hands is impressive.'

Deacon shifted uncomfortably and nodded a polite thanks, turning back to Jimmy, who was regaling them with stories of the time he'd been a tea boy over at Dolly Parton's record label. Groupies had been following Randy's tour from city to city, and more than a handful of them managed to get into the aftershow parties - good-looking girls, mostly. The life of a musician was something else.

'You ever sing solo?' she asked, not taking Deacon's snub for an answer and inviting herself to sit on the nearest chair. He looked around hoping someone else might jump in, but they didn't. The girl fluttered her heavily made-up eyes at him. 'You don't say much do you?'

He tried not to look at the barely-covered D-cups she was pushing in his direction. 'Er… no.'

'No you don't sing solo or no you don't say much?'

'You gotta excuse my friend,' Kennedy jumped in, 'he's better at singin' than he is at talkin'.'

Deacon caught Rayna's eye and edged closer to her on the couch. He couldn't read her expression, but she said nothing, crossing one long leg over the other and picking up her drink.

'Well does your friend wanna sing me his phone number?' the girl asked Kennedy, and Vince leaned around him to gawk at her.

'You know sugar, I live with this guy back in Nashville. How 'bout I give you _my_ number, and you see which one of us picks up?'

She scanned Vince up and down and barely stopped short of snorting. She'd clearly decided where her sights were set, but Deacon had found a scuff on his left boot that was intensely interesting and missed the pout she aimed at him.

'You're brazen, man,' Jimmy chuckled as the girl gave up, tossed her hair over her shoulder and sashayed away.

'Oh I know it,' Vince said. 'Gotta catch the crumbs from the table when this idiot wastes the whole loaf, you know what I mean?'

Deacon groaned, and Rayna set down her glass. 'And _that_ , gentlemen, is my cue to go to bed. Vince, you're a pig, the rest of y'all - enjoy your night, I'll see you in the mornin'. Please make sure no girl drinks enough that they find him charmin'.'

'There ain't enough booze in all this bar, honey, don't you worry,' Kennedy said, rising to kiss her on the cheek as she passed.

Deacon watched as she waited for the lifts at the far side of the lobby, tapping her foot on the marble floor.

/

It was chilly outside, the night having drawn in a little unseasonably, and Deacon shoved his hands in his pockets, watching a wild cat slink across the parking lot.

The front door of the hotel opened, and Vince's dulcet tones called out to him.

'You're doin' that brooding stare thing the ladies like so much,' he said, drawing up next to him. 'I've tried to pull it off myself but it just doesn't look as good without a demon on your back and a girl on your mind.'

Deacon half-smiled, and Vince lit up a cigarette, taking a drag and offering it to him. He shook his head. 'Penny for your thoughts, Claybourne?'

'I think you might be right,' he said, eyes fixed somewhere out in the distance.

'I'm sorry, can you say that again? My tape recorder wasn't ready and that isn't a sentence I ever heard before.'

'You're right,' he said a little more firmly, 'about Rayna. I think I got it bad. Real fuckin' bad.'

'You _think_?' Vince repeated. He wasn't joking though, and he watched Deacon lean his head back against the wall. 'You only just realisin' this or you only just bringin' yourself to say it?'

'Both, I think, I don't know. I been tryin' not to think about it, but it's bigger than me, I can't think about anythin' _but_.'

Vince wordlessly passed him the cigarette and he took it that time, sucking in a lungful and breathing out slowly.

'What you gonna do?'

'Nothin'. Maybe. I dunno. What would you do?'

'Buddy, I don't think you wanna hear what I'd do. Rayna's _hot_ , and I'm a weak man.'

Deacon rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he hadn't asked.

'Thing is, Deac, it ain't me who's in love with her. And it ain't me she looks at with those pretty eyes like she feels exactly the damn same.'

'You think she does?' he asked, the thud in his stomach all too familiar.

'Come on, man, you ain't blind. But it's not as simple as that, not with Rayna. That girl is complicated as hell, and she's got your nuts wrapped around her little finger. She could fuck you up real good. You wanna take that chance?'

Deacon took a deep breath.

'Anyway, if she doesn't, her daddy sure will. How fast can you run from the barrel of a shotgun, my friend?'

'There's a song in that. If I don't make it fast enough, write it for me?'

'I'll play it at your funeral.'

They fell silent for a minute, Vince puffing rings of smoke out into the clear night air, something he'd once asked Deacon if he could list as a skill on his resume.

'You could get any girl you want, and you're out here moonin' over the only one you can't have,' he said. 'That chick inside was a solid ten, ass like a pair of peaches, and you barely even looked at her. If you weren't my buddy I'd wanna kick your ass for bein' so dumb.'

'I wanna kick your ass anyway.'

'I can't really blame you for that. I drank your beer by the way, you left it on the table and it got lonely.'

Deacon shook his head, laughing a little.

'Listen Deac.' Vince dropped the finished butt on the ground and stubbed it out with his boot, pushing himself upright. 'Far as I see it, you ain't gettin' over Red. So maybe you gotta see what unfolds. Just let it fly.'

Deacon thought about that, watching the cat drop to the ground ready to pounce on a fieldmouse rustling in the bushes. He rolled his shoulders, took one last look out over the horizon and followed Vince back inside.

###

'It's real nice of you to come all the way out here to see the show, Mr Jenkins, I appreciate it,' Rayna said in her most polite tone.

She'd been brought up in a household where manners were of great importance, and as much as she'd never wanted to be dragged into the Country Club scene, now that she had label heads and promoters to impress, she appreciated the skills she'd unwittingly learned.

She was finding that trying to break into country music was as much about the ability to be personable as it was about talent, and she was lucky it felt so natural to her. Deacon hated the schmoozing, though he was every bit as charismatic as she was; more often than not he stayed by her side and let her do most of the talking. Their rhythm offstage was something they were finding came as easily as it did onstage, and they complemented each other perfectly without needing to try.

John Jenkins shook Rayna's outstretched hand, giving her a wide smile. 'The pleasure is all mine, Ms Jaymes, I'm happy to have had the chance to see you perform.'

'Oh please, it's Rayna,' she insisted.

'John's wife was hoping you and Deacon might join us all for a late dinner, Rayna,' Watty said, waving at Mrs Jenkins across the crowded backstage area. 'After she's caught up with Randy, anyway.'

'We could be here all night waitin' for that,' John told them. 'Mary went to college with Randy's aunt, she'll have asked after the whole family before we get her out of here.'

Mary Jenkins turned out to be an instant fan of Rayna's, of her duets with Deacon in particular, and she sat across from them some time later at a table in a small Italian restaurant, avidly hanging on every word they had to say.

'How did the two of you meet?' she asked when they'd ordered their meals, leaning towards them with a large glass of white wine in one hand.

Rayna glanced at Deacon and he took the cue to answer, somewhat shyly. 'Um, Watty introduced us, actually. Rayna was doin' an open mic in a bar back home in Nashville, and he'd invited me along to see her, he thought she needed a guitar player.'

'Because he knew I'm just _awful_ with guitars,' Rayna added, slathering butter neatly onto a bread roll. 'I could practice for a hundred years and I still wouldn't be able to play in tune. Thank goodness for Deacon, he only has to look at a guitar and it starts makin' beautiful music.'

'You certainly are born to pick, young man,' John said. 'I play myself, not nearly as well as you do, but I appreciate talent when I see it, and both of you have it in spades. You make the perfect team.'

'Watty has a great eye, puttin' you together.' Mary beamed at them, and Rayna felt Deacon's hand squeeze her knee under the table briefly.

'I'm sure glad he did,' he said, lifting his glass to Mary's proffered toast.

'And who wrote those songs you were singin' tonight?' John asked.

'We did. Deacon and I write most of our songs together, and of course there's the odd cover in our set too.'

Watty sat back in his chair, pleased that John was obviously impressed. 'They've really got potential for some hits on their hands, don't you think?'

John nodded thoughtfully, and Rayna wished she could tell what he was thinking. It seemed to be something good though; he had a twinkle in his eye and he hadn't touched his starter yet.

'Where do you get the inspiration for those darlin' love songs?' Mary asked, halfway through hers.

Rayna's heart sped up without her permission, and she took a sip of her ice water before she spoke. 'They just… seem to come to us. We can't _stop_ writin' them.'

Mary practically swooned over her plate at that, and she looked over at her husband. 'Oh young love,' she said with a sigh.

'Actually, Watty here tells me they're not involved,' he said, looking between Rayna and Deacon knowingly, and Watty cleared his throat.

'Who'd like more wine?' he asked, signalling the waiter without waiting for an answer, but Mary wasn't done.

'Well now how can that be?' she said in surprise, but she was an astute woman, and she was quick to realise that the heat between them was unresolved. 'Wine would be lovely,' she added, letting it drop, and when the fresh bottle arrived on the table she slid a generous glass towards Rayna with a wink. 'You know where those songs would sound just wonderful, John?'

'Where?'

'On a record. Playin' in our house.'

###

'The headliner's always overrated, darlin'. Everyone knows that.'

'Oh sure. You're so much more _alternative_.'

VInce wasn't quiet as he clattered through the parking lot in the dark. He'd headed out after their show that night to hit up a local taproom he'd heard about, managing to drag along Kennedy, who'd left a couple of hours and too many beers later and fallen asleep in his bunk the minute his head had hit the pillow.

A female voice giggled alongside Vince, and Deacon, sat with Rayna, Jimmy and his guitar on one of the couches, grimaced as they neared the bus.

'Come on,' he said, standing up quickly, 'we don't wanna stick around for this. Believe me.'

He started towards Rayna's room and they followed, leaving the door open a crack behind them. She'd thrown her stage outfit onto the bed carelessly when she'd changed into pyjamas for the night, and Deacon tried unsuccessfully not to look at the white lace bra that lay on top of the pile of clothes.

'Looks like we've got the place to ourselves,' the girl said suggestively as she stumbled up the steps, and Rayna stifled a laugh.

'She's subtle.'

'Looks like we do. Just how I like it.' Vince twirled a strand of her blonde hair around a finger.

'So are you famous back in Nashville?' she purred, stepping closer to him.

'You bet I am, Tracey.'

'It's Stacey.'

'Right, Stacey. I'm the next big thing, Stacey, so they tell me.'

Jimmy snorted. 'The next big thing?'

'It's his line,' Deacon said dryly. 'Always works on the kind of girls Vince picks up. Watch.'

Stacey hooked her thumbs in his belt, right on cue, and blinked heavily. 'Oh yeah?'

'Good thing Barb's sleepin' at the hotel tonight,' Rayna said, 'she'd box his ears in. That girl definitely has spare panties in her purse.'

'Girls do that?' Deacon asked.

'The trashy ones do.'

He was hunched over her, close enough that he could smell the shampoo she'd used that morning, and it had mingled throughout the day with her own scent into some kind of sweet torture of his senses. He breathed it in, thinking he was being discreet about it, but she leaned back a little and brushed against him, and neither of them made any move to break the contact.

Jimmy recoiled at the sight unfolding in front of Vince's bunk. 'Please tell me they're not gonna...'

'Yep,' Deacon said grimly, as Stacey's hot-pink satin bra hit the floor right in front of them. 'They're gonna.'

He closed the door seconds later, too late, and the three of them stayed there for a moment without looking at each other, horror on their faces.

'We're in for a long night in here,' Jimmy muttered, and Deacon laughed, sitting down on the edge of Rayna's bed, careful to avoid her discarded clothes.

'Give him twenty minutes.'

###

'Can you pass the ketchup, Kennedy?'

'Not enough on there already Vince? I can't see your bacon underneath it.'

'Just pass me the damn bottle man. I gotta get some vitamin C back in my body.'

'Maybe an orange juice is what you need,' Rayna said with a tilt of her eyebrow. She started to pour a glass from the jug in the middle of their table, but Vince held up his hand.

'You ever tried to drink that much acid on a stomach of regret, Rayna?'

They were in a diner off the highway somewhere outside Nebraska, a quick pitstop on the way to the next town. Every item on the menu was fried, and even the coffee tasted like it had been brewed in grease, but it was served with a smile and was hitting the spot, for everyone except maybe Vince.

'I haven't, actually, no,' Rayna said in amusement. 'How much _did_ you drink last night? You look green.'

Vince blew out an unsteady breath. 'Ask that bathroom out back, I dumped most of my stomach in there a few minutes ago.'

Rayna covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh. Deacon snagged a piece of the crispy bacon rind she'd left on her plate and she elbowed him playfully.

'You'll get gout,' she teased, and he stuffed it in his mouth and leaned into her, crunching it next to her ear.

'I can't believe that girl stole my wallet,' Vince lamented, dropping his head into his hands.

' _That girl_ 's name was Stacey,' Rayna said, 'and I hope she buys better taste with those ten dollars you had to your name.'

'Look on the bright side, Vinny,' Deacon told him as he refilled their cups, 'she left her bra behind. For you I'd say that's a fair trade-off.'

Vince groaned. The bra in question had been dangling from the door of the bus where the girl had left it on her way out, and had been found by a less than impressed Barb when she'd come to rouse them all at sunrise ready to hit the road.

'We're gonna burn that,' Barb said. Her breakfast had been twice the size of even Vince's, and she'd put it away in half the time. She patted her stomach. 'And you're takin' a long hot shower when we get back on the bus. That damn mess on your arm will come off with a good scrub.'

Stacey's phone number had been carved into Vince's skin with a little too much beer-strength in what looked like eyeliner, and he rubbed at it uselessly with a wet napkin, buffing his forearm a nasty shade of red.

Barb stood up, pulling on her cap and letting out a belch. 'A girl who robs you and leaves her number - what bright sparks you pick. Take my advice, Jameson: don't get this one tattooed. Even you ain't that stupid twice.'

They paid the waitress, tipping her a few dollars extra on account of her slipping Vince a takeaway cup of strong black coffee.

Rayna stretched her arms above her head outside the diner, looking up at the watery blue sky. Cornfields rolled in every direction for as far as she could see. 'It's gorgeous here, huh?' she said, and Deacon hummed in agreement, coming up beside her and handing her a white paper bag.

'The waitress gave it to me. I thought you might want a little sugar.'

She opened it and lifted it to her nose, breathing in the sweet cinnamon bun inside. 'Thanks Deacon,' she told him, and there it was again, the warm feeling all the way to her fingers and toes. He smiled at her and held out his hand, helping her up the first step of the bus and following her aboard.

'I wish they'd just screw already,' Vince grumbled, hobbling towards the steps with Kennedy and Jimmy, who refrained from answering him.

When he got to the top step Barb looked at him dubiously, adjusting her seat to make room for her breakfast-enhanced belly. 'You savin' those eggs for later?'

Vince followed her eyes to the leg of his jeans, wiping at the crusty yellow streak and succeeding only in making it worse.

'Unless that's puke,' she added, starting up the engine, 'in which case you can get off my bus and hitchhike to Chicago, son.'

###

'You look like you had a late night,' Tandy said, sipping on a cappuccino with extra foam. It could have sounded disapproving, but she'd had a fond smile on her face since she'd stepped out of the airport cab and Rayna had flung herself into her arms.

'Every night's a late night,' Rayna replied happily, rubbing her eyes. Her own coffee relationship had progressed quickly and she'd taken to knocking back espressos - it cut out the middle man, she'd decided. What use was there for milk when the caffeine could hit your veins straight up?

'I'll bet.' Tandy watched her sister devour a roast chicken sandwich at the speed of lightning and laughed. 'I'm glad to see you're eating well, anyway.'

'Mmhmm,' Rayna said around a mouthful, 'gotta make the most of a good lunch. The food we make for ourselves…' She thought about the rubbery pasta Kennedy prided himself on. 'Not so much.'

The show Tandy has been due to travel out to in Louisville was still a couple of weeks away, but after Rayna's tearful late-night call she'd taken a day off from her job to fly to an earlier one. It was to be a fleeting trip - she'd caught the first flight out of Nashville and would go back right after the show that night - but it meant everything to Rayna that she'd made the effort to be there.

She took Tandy along to the venue after they'd eaten, linking arms with her and introducing her to the roadies and crew. Everyone they bumped into was warm and friendly with obvious affection for Rayna, and she chatted easily with them, unaware of Tandy watching her. She gave her a tour of the concert hall, through the backstage corridors, onto the stage itself, and Tandy had to admit it was thrilling, the atmosphere one of happy anticipation.

'This is where we live, when we're travelling or not staying in a hotel anyway,' Rayna said when they reached the bus outside. She climbed the steps and gestured with her arm in presentation. 'It's kinda messy. I mean I've gotten used to living with Deacon and Vince but there are double the amount of boys on this thing with me. It's a good thing the windows open.'

'It's better than I'd expected, actually.' Tandy perched briefly on one of the couches to test its comfort levels. She picked up a bright blue baseball cap lying on one of the cushions and peered at it. _Stud_ , the white stitching on the front read, and she lifted an eyebrow in question.

'Oh that's Barb's, she's our driver.'

'She?'

'You'd love her - balls in all the right places. She knew Watty when he was a kid. I swear, she keeps us all in check - we wouldn't get _anywhere_ on time if it wasn't for Barb.'

'And _is_ Barb a stud?'

Rayna chuckled. 'She sure is.' She reached for the hat, suddenly serious. 'We should probably put that back on her chair. Vince likes to borrow it when she's not around, she'd kill him if she knew.'

/

It was a sold-out show, and Tandy was sitting in the section to the right of the stage that was reserved for family and friends. She knew Rayna was nervous that she was there, but she'd seemed so excited to share it with her, and she couldn't wait to see the show.

Tandy's reservations about her sister's choice of career were substantial, but she tried to be supportive. She knew Rayna was sometimes frustrated that she didn't understand her love of music, but she wanted to, and she was glad to see her in such high spirits in any case.

Their day together had been telling, from the way everyone involved in the tour knew Rayna to the confidence she'd developed in the past few weeks while she'd been part of it. Tandy had never seen her so sure of herself, and so sure of her footing in life. She hadn't seen her smile so much in a long time either, not since their mother had died, really. The realisation made her heart ache, and it was reassuring, at least, to know Rayna was around good people, spending her time doing something she clearly loved.

The lights went down just as she was checking her watch for the time, and she sat forward in her seat, nerves making her knee jiggle of its own accord. The cheers when Rayna and her band walked out onto the stage rang in her ears and she joined in, a little too loudly.

'Hey there y'all,' Rayna said into her microphone, and the audience greeted her in response.

She looked amazing, Tandy thought to herself, all bright smiles and shimmering skin in her tiny denim dress. Her hair looked positively golden under the lights, and she flicked it over her shoulder as she turned to look at Deacon on her left side. Tandy had never doubted there was something magnetic about her sister, and as she began to sing, an upbeat number about leaving town in a truck, a lump formed in her throat that even a generous swallow of her three dollar wine couldn't dislodge.

'You know her?' the man in the seat next to her asked.

'She's my sister.'

'She's real good, really got somethin'.'

Tandy beamed at him, prouder than she'd ever felt in her life, and turned her attention back to the stage, all but hollering as Rayna thanked the crowd while her band wrapped up the first song. She could feel the energy coming from them; they gelled well together, that much was obvious even to someone who didn't know the first thing about musicianship, but the thing that struck her most was how much _fun_ they were having.

'We're gonna slow things down up here,' Rayna said halfway through their set, dropping onto the stool a guy in the crew brought on stage for her. 'We wrote this a couple of days ago, and I'll tell you, we haven't been able to stop singin' it since, so we thought we'd do it for you tonight.'

Tandy watched as Deacon adjusted the mic stand next to Rayna's, slow realisation dawning on her. She hadn't noticed the second stool, and as he moved it so close that their knees touched when he sat down, she started to feel slightly light-headed. _We wrote this_.

Rayna had told her of the songs they'd worked on together, of course, and she'd wondered if some they'd done so far had maybe been partially penned by Deacon, but they were perky tracks, sung from a safe distance, and now he was gazing adoringly at Rayna while they launched into what was undoubtedly a love song.

' _There could never be another, that could make me feel the way you do_ ,' Rayna sang, staring right back at him, and Tandy downed the rest of her drink.

Three minutes - or hours, possibly - and Deacon Goddamn Claybourne didn't take his eyes off her little sister once. When they finished up the song they broke into matching smiles and stood, Deacon encouraging her to give a modest little bow, much to the delight of the enthralled audience.

'Deacon Claybourne, y'all,' Rayna said, and Tandy scowled at the women a couple of seats down who fanned themselves.

The man next to her gave a low whistle. 'Your sister and her boyfriend have got some _chemistry_ ,' he said, and all the way through the next song she pondered whether she'd get escorted out if she rolled up her sleeves and punched him.

###

It had been the best few days of the tour yet. There was a different feeling in the air, one that came with having a steady run of shows in one place and some free time during the days - a sort of settling, a slowing of pace. Having time off was definitely giving everyone a chance to take their foot off the pedal, and Deacon was making the most of it.

He'd managed to get in a few runs, early in the morning in the still-weak sunlight, feeling the blood pound in his ears as he'd hit the long stretch of beach that flanked Lake Michigan. There was an ongoing basketball tournament they'd been playing in the afternoons in the space between the buses, a bunch of the crew and some of Randy's band, and Deacon was rediscovering a childhood talent for shooting hoops. After-parties had rolled on into the early hours, and their shows were all the better for the downtime. It was a re-set, and it had come at just the right time, when fatigue had started to creep in around the edges of exhilaration.

Chicago lived up to its blustery reputation, and Deacon loved how it made Rayna's cheeks rosy and tangled her hair. She'd spent a good half an hour on their first morning cursing at her reflection while she'd tried to yank a brush through it, much to his amusement, but he'd enjoyed how she'd let it be a little wilder; the disarray looked good on her.

The day of their third and last show in the city had arrived all too quickly, and Rayna had knocked on his hotel room door early, catching him as he was changing after his run. He was sure her eyes had lingered on his bare chest, but he'd definitely imagined that they'd strayed to the line of hair that led from his abdomen down below the waistband of his jeans.

She'd persuaded him to finish throwing on his clothes to go with her on a boat trip, and despite his misgivings, he hadn't been able to resist her enthusiasm.

'I ain't never liked boats too much,' he confessed as she pulled him along the pier towards the creaky white vessel slapping against its ropes.

'It's only a half hour trip,' she said, grabbing his hand and doubling her efforts to get him moving. 'You take showers that are longer than that.'

'I do not.'

'Deacon, you take longer showers than _I_ do.'

He gave in and let her lead him towards the ticket booth. She didn't take her hand back as they bought two, and he was so focused on how warm and slender her fingers were, nestled snugly in his, that he didn't register how much the wooden ramp up onto the boat was veering from side to side.

Rayna climbed up on it first, no fear in her steps, and when she turned back for him as he hesitated, a gust of wind sent the boat skittering an alarming distance across the water, the ramp with it. She grabbed the handrail to steady herself but Deacon reached her in two strides, circling her waist with one sturdy arm and holding tight to the rail, her body safe against his.

'Thanks,' she said, looking up at him as he held onto her and waited a moment for the water to settle, and they stayed that way maybe a little longer than necessary.

They chose a seat at the very front of the boat, Rayna's preference, and she leaned over the edge as they set off, licking the salt-spray from her lips and hanging onto her thin scarf. Deacon, on the other hand, breathed through his nose, in and out, trying not to throw up and wondering how she wasn't at all phased by the rocking motion.

'Isn't it beautiful?' she marvelled, taking in a big lungful of the balmy air and twisting around to look at him. 'Deacon? You don't look so good, are you okay?'

'I'm fine,' he said, smiling weakly.

'You really don't like boats, do you?'

He shook his head. 'I don't like not havin' my feet on solid ground.'

Rayna studied him carefully. 'Sometimes you gotta trust yourself to float,' she said after a moment, and it sounded so simple to him there on the choppy water, the skyscrapers noble and still back on the shore, getting smaller and smaller as they sailed away.

'I like how much _you_ like boats,' he said. 'I like that a lot.'

'You do?'

Deacon nodded. The wind was whipping her hair all around her face, the sun catching it, and she looked almost other-worldly. 'I like when you're happy.'

A pretty smile caught on her lips. 'I'm happy all the time when I'm around you,' she said, and he only realised half an hour later when they'd docked that his seasickness had disappeared, forgotten as quickly as the need for solid ground.

/

Deacon wasn't the only one to have noticed how good a little rest looked on Rayna.

Their last show in town was a big one, with George Strait making a guest appearance, and the audience buzzed as they filed inside when the doors opened. Rayna leaned around the curtain at the side of the stage watching them take their seats, her foot tapping with nervous energy.

Her outfit for the night was a simple sundress, white lace overlaying cotton, her favourite battered cowboy boots on her feet. It was a wholesome look, but there was something flirty about the short hemline and the peep of cleavage. Whether she realised it or not, she was alluring, and the effect she had on people was clear.

Brett had been sniffing around her ever since they'd left Nashville. Deacon was no idiot, he knew it was only a matter of time before he made a play for her, and as much as he told himself Rayna wouldn't respond, he could only hope she saw through the sleazy bastard. His own feelings for her were considerable, and they were only growing. Some days he was overwhelmed completely, but he didn't have a clue what to do about it.

Deacon watched Brett walk up to her by the curtain and saw her laugh in response to whatever lame thing he'd said. Jealousy shot through him. If it wasn't Brett, it would be some other guy, and the thought made him feel like he couldn't breathe.

'I just _love_ George Strait,' she was saying, and Deacon knew it - she played his records on the bus all the time, and she'd been thrilled when they'd learned he'd be joining Randy for a duet.

'He's a legend,' Brett said. 'Guy definitely knows how to write a tune.'

Rayna sighed wistfully. 'I can't wait to see him perform. I've never seen him live before.'

'He's a good buddy of Randy's, we've hung out with him a tonne of times. I can introduce you, if you like?'

Deacon scoffed under his breath. Introduce her. Sure he could.

'Oh that would be _wonderful_ ,' she replied, and Brett all but patted himself on the back.

The show went off without a hitch, electric from start to finish. When Randy came offstage after his encore they were all swept up in the whirlwind of adrenaline, the congratulation and celebration loud and sweaty and an undeniable highlight of the tour. The aftershow was in the hotel bar, paparazzi crowding around the front and back entrances hoping for a money shot of the two stars together.

Deacon lost Rayna somewhere in the melee, and he parked himself at the bar hoping he'd be able to spot her but she was nowhere to be seen.

'This is what I always thought it'd be like bein' out on tour,' Vince said. 'This is the dream stuff right here.' He chugged a few swallows of beer and wiped his mouth. 'What's up man?'

'Nothin', nothin', I just... '

'You're just wonderin' where Rayna is.'

Deacon nodded, holding a sweating bottle against his forehead.

'She'll be fine, Deac, she's probably somewhere talkin' herself onto George's next tour.'

'That's probably true,' he conceded, smiling to himself at the thought. 'It was a great show wasn't it? _Damn_ it was a great show.'

'We were on the same bill as George Strait, man. We can dine out on that for years.' Vince signalled to the barman. 'Shots, my friend, and keep 'em comin'. We're celebratin' over here.'

They'd gotten to know a lot of the crew over the weeks and they were quickly swept up in the party; for a while Deacon lost himself in the high of the night and the whiskey in front of him, the lick as it went down his throat again and again. It was never long before somebody busted out some guitars, and he found himself with one in hand, knee-deep in a complicated riff with one of the other guys. Deacon was exceptional, even by the standards of the experienced musicians he was impressed by every day, and every opportunity they got to hear him play, they jumped on.

He was enjoying himself. He was never one to revel in attention but when he had a guitar in his hand it was all different - a roomful of people sharing a deep love for music was something that amazed him, and he was sure the rush would never get old.

He was halfway through a rendition of an old Merle Haggard song when he saw Rayna. She was standing by a leather couch in a corner, a drink in her hand, and as she sipped it through a long straw, Brett draped his arm around her. She didn't look entirely pleased but she didn't move away, and Deacon pardoned himself, handing the borrowed guitar to whoever was closest.

He made his way through the throng of people, remembering his promise to Watty to keep an eye on her, as though he needed the excuse.

'This business is all about who you know,' he heard Brett saying when he got near them, 'so you stick with me, babe - I'll get you up close and personal with all the George Straits you want.'

He couldn't see Rayna's face, but she murmured something and Brett pulled her in tighter.

''Course,' he said, 'I'd rather you got up close and personal with _me_.'

Deacon saw red. He took a step towards them, intent on bashing the guy's face in, but a hand on his chest stopped him.

'Hey,' Vince said, shoving him back firmly, 'let me handle this.'

'Get the hell out of here, what are you doin'?'

'You want her to lose the spot on the tour? Cos that's what's gonna happen if you flatten the headliner's drummer.'

'I need to get that dick away from her, get off me Vince.'

'I've got it. Step outside, go cool off. I'll take care of it.'

He wasn't messing around, and Deacon held up his hands in surrender. He watched Vince approach Rayna and before she could turn around and see him, he stalked towards the lobby and didn't look back.

The city was noisy, even gone midnight, but Deacon barely noticed. All he could hear was Rayna's voice: _I'm happy all the time when I'm around you._

A friend, that's all she saw him as. It was nothing more. He'd almost convinced himself she did look at him differently, and maybe she did, but it didn't mean she felt the same way.

He laughed bitterly; what an asshole he was.

/

Rayna dumped the almost-full vodka tonic on the edge of the bar. She hated vodka - it gave her the heebie jeebies, and she really wasn't a fan of the heebie jeebies.

Brett had ordered it for her without asking her what she wanted - a double, at that, and she'd felt rude to turn it down, so she'd nursed it to humour him until she could slip away to find her friends. She'd had a glorious ten minute chat with George Strait, one of her lifelong heroes, and she'd been on such a high she'd been maybe more tolerant of Brett's obvious intentions than she should have been. He was pleasant enough, but she'd scanned the room for Deacon every time he took a swig of his drink, and was disappointed not to spot him.

'What was that about?' she asked Vince, who seemed distracted as he pulled out a chair at one of the tables and gestured for her to sit.

'I don't like that guy,' he said bluntly, dropping into the one next to her. 'I don't trust him with you.'

'So you told him there was an emergency?' Rayna looked around. 'I don't see any emergency, Vince. That's the oldest line in the book.'

'Then I hope he got the message.'

'I can look after myself, you know.'

'We're just watchin' out for you, Rayna, that's all. Guys like Brett don't exactly got your best interests at heart.'

'We? You mean you and Deacon? Where is he?' she asked, but Vince looked awkward and didn't answer.

'I just saw Deac in the parkin' lot,' Jimmy said, coming towards them smelling of freshly-smoked cigarettes. 'Said he'd had enough of the party, he was headed to a bar down the street.'

'What bar?'

'The sketchy-lookin' one with the open mic night.'

Vince nodded and stood quickly, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and wedging it behind his ear. 'That's Deacon, can always find a shitty joint when he needs one. I'm gonna go look for him.'

'Hey,' Rayna called after him as he strode towards the door, 'wait for me.'

'Me too, man, I could use a real beer,' Jimmy said, and they followed Vince before he could object.

The bar was set back from the road, a few steps below street level, and a red neon sign in the steamed-up window told them it was open. A wave of hot air hit them as they walked in, body heat and bad aircon turning the place into an oven. It smelled like perfume and cheap beer, and Rayna shrugged off her jacket, winding through the knots of people.

'Do you see him?' she asked, raising her voice over the loud music. A middle-aged woman was on the stage, holding the microphone too close to her mouth and singing the wrong words to _Billie Jean_.

'I see a lot of shoulder pads,' Jimmy said, side-eyeing a girl in leopard print.

'He'll be here.'

Vince manoeuvred them to a small space near a table that was occupied by old men ignoring each other companionably. The crinkliest of them looked up at Rayna and stared at her without apology. He was puffing on a pipe, and she wondered if he saw all his life through a murky smoke cloud.

'Tammy, everybody - give her a hand.' A waitress in a tiny skirt got up on the stage, wrenching the mic from Tammy and clapping a couple of times, more in gratitude that she'd finished than anything.

'I think Tammy likes the sound of her own voice more than the rest of these people care to hear it,' Jimmy said, and Rayna nodded, watching the woman high-five her large friends at the bar and down a congratulatory shot of something black and dubious.

'We've got somebody new for you up next, a bit of a change from our regulars.' The waitress sounded relieved at the fact, and leaned over towards the steps. 'What's your name again honey? Deacon - give Deacon a big old welcome, guys.'

'Bingo,' Vince muttered, looking strangely panicked as Deacon walked onto the stage and sat down.

There was a smattering of applause, mostly from the women in the place. Rayna wasn't sure why she felt nervous, but Deacon didn't quite seem like himself; there was an edge to the way he adjusted the mic stand and didn't look at anyone as he plucked a couple of strings to check he was in tune.

'I wrote this a little while ago,' he said to his feet, 'about a girl I been tryin' to tell myself I ain't in love with for too long now. Too long for anybody but a fool.'

Rayna's heart shot up into her throat, and she stood rooted to the spot, aware of nothing but Deacon on the rickety little stage, too many sweaty people between them for him to see her.

'But it don't matter anymore,' he continued, 'she don't feel the same way. Maybe she's never known how I feel, maybe she never will. So I guess I'll just sing about it instead.'

A group of girls at the front of the stage cooed over his declaration, and his fingers began to pull a slow melody from his guitar. It was his old one, Rayna noticed, not the one Watty had given to him for the tour. She guessed he felt more connected to the battered old thing that had seen him through so many years and so many burdens he'd never quite tell her about.

She couldn't quite catch her breath as he started to sing, and every one of the words was loud and clear to her; he may as well have been the only other person in the room.

' _For as long as I live, there will always be a place you belong, here beside me_ ,' he sang, his voice equal parts gruff and gentle. 'H _eart and soul, baby you own me, and I promise you now, you won't ever be lonely_.'

She'd never heard him sound quite like this, not even in the most heartfelt of songs they'd written together. The lyrics were full of hope, but he sang them brokenly, as though he'd lost it somewhere along the way, so much the worse for having known it at all.

Only when he finished did Rayna become aware of Vince watching her, and she turned to him as the captivated audience whooped and clapped, lifting their beer bottles in an imaginary toast to the apparent heartbreak of a stranger.

'Who is that song about?' she asked faintly, not sure whether she needed to sit down or run as fast as she could.

Vince said nothing, but he didn't need to - it was all over his face.

'I hope the girl's worth it,' a woman next to them said to her friend. 'He is _far_ too gorgeous to be sad.'

' _I'd_ cheer him up anytime, however he wanted,' the friend replied, and they both dissolved into feverish giggles.

'Rayna?' Vince called after her but she was too fast for him; she bolted through the crowd, not caring how many people she shoved aside to get to the door.

She sucked in as much of the cool air as she could when she made it outside, and found a deserted spot around the corner of the building. She leaned against it and re-played Deacon's song over and over in her head, squeezing her eyes closed and hearing his voice as clearly as if he were right in front of her.

She was there only a few minutes when the door swung open. She vaguely registered a brief flood of noise from inside before it closed again, and footsteps crunched hurriedly across the gravel.

'Ray?'

She looked up, and there he was. He was alone, and he stood before her in his familiar flannel, his hair messed up by the wind. She wanted to cry as she stared at him, though she didn't know why, but she bit her lip and looked away instead, no idea what to say.

'You heard all that,' he said, and she half-nodded. Deacon took in a taut breath and lifted his eyes momentarily to the sky, digesting the knowledge that in just those few minutes, everything had changed.

Rayna watched him warily, not daring to ask what she wanted to.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I didn't mean for you to. I thought you were back at the hotel, I… I guess I didn't think at all.' He jammed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels.

'It was a beautiful song,' she told him quietly. He fixed his eyes on her and her heart skittered like she'd never known; she wasn't sure it would hold out much longer if he kept looking at her the way he was. Her voice dropped to barely a sound. 'Who were you singin' about, Deacon?'

She knew the answer; she'd always known it, if she was honest with herself, but she needed to hear it from him. They'd skirted around and around this moment since the day they'd met, and she felt dizzy from it. It had been inevitable that they'd end up standing right here.

For just a moment she thought he might not say anything at all, but he stepped closer to her, so close that she could feel his sweet breath on her skin. She turned her face up towards him, her hands shaking by her sides.

'You, Ray,' he whispered, and that was all it took.

She didn't know who kissed who, but his lips were on hers and his hands were in her hair and she wasn't worried about her trembling knees because her arms were around his neck holding on for dear life.

He pulled her as close as he could and she melted into him, his body warm and strong against hers; she felt absolute impossibility that she would ever get enough of him, of his lips, of the way he tasted, of how intoxicating it was to be utterly consumed by him.

Everything around them faded to nothing at all; they didn't hear Vince and Jimmy leave the bar, or respond when they called their names. They didn't notice when it started to rain, or when the wind blew so hard a trashcan lid toppled off and skimmed across the yard.

When they eventually pulled apart, Rayna's hair was wet and she was shivering, but she'd never felt so hot in all her life.


	4. Chapter 4

**_It's been ages since the last chapter I know - thank you so much for being so kind and for all your sweet wishes. This is extra long to make up for it - oops. I won't leave a huge gap before the next chapter. xo_**

They pulled out of Chicago at 5am, having slept on the bus ready for the early departure. The sound of the engine firing up roused Rayna only momentarily; she scooted further under the covers and fell back into a comfortable doze as soon as the wheels began to turn underneath her.

It had been a night. When she and Deacon had eventually made it back to the bus they'd been soaking wet, the rain having unleashed itself full force, and they'd crept up the steps hoping to find everyone asleep, but Vince and Jimmy had been playing about with their guitars at one of the tables. They'd joined them, acting as normally as they could manage and sitting just far enough from each other on the couch that they weren't touching, but Rayna's lips were pink and swollen and Deacon couldn't stop staring at them. Knowing he'd been the one to make them so had driven him crazy, she could tell, and she'd been almost delirious herself with the need to get her hands on him again.

They'd joined in with the impromptu jam, Rayna's arm brushing against Deacon's a few times and setting her entire body thrumming. All she could focus on was him beside her, warmth rolling off him, and more than once Vince had to repeat her name to get her attention. She'd heard Deacon laugh quietly; she hadn't needed to look at him to know the smile on his face was just the same as hers, soft and secret.

Rayna had made herself go to bed before she could lose all control of the urge to kiss him again, and she'd laid on her back in dry, warm pyjamas feeling like every nerve ending in her body was blazing, staring at the ceiling and re-playing the past few hours over and over again. Never had she been kissed like that, not _anything_ like that. She couldn't even let herself think about what he'd said as he'd introduced his song, it was overwhelming enough to be able to feel the ghost of him on her lips, and she lifted her fingers to trace them, still tingling, as she drifted to sleep.

It could have been 8am or mid-afternoon when Rayna woke for the day. She pulled back the curtain and peeped outside. The road was flying by in a blur of dark green trees; they were still on their way, though she couldn't remember where to. Muted voices chatted out in the kitchen, and she pulled herself upright, delicious memories of the night before flooding back to her in the way they did when you weren't quite awake and couldn't be sure of their authenticity. She sat for a moment, smiling to herself at the realisation that they were no dream, and a fizz of anticipation flooded her stomach.

She listened more carefully; she couldn't hear Deacon's voice among the others, and she wondered if he was still asleep. It was ridiculous, she told herself, to be nervous about seeing him - she'd spent almost every day with him since they'd met. It was an excited kind of nervous though, one that propelled her to her feet and made her take a little extra time smoothing her hair and pulling on a sweater before she padded out into the main living space.

She took note of the bunks as she passed: the curtain in front of Vince's was still pulled across, light snoring emanating from behind it, but Deacon's was open, his bed crumpled and empty. Rayna felt a little thrill as she looked at it and wondered if he'd been thinking about her too, if he'd slept or had lain awake still able to taste their kiss.

Jimmy and Kennedy were on one of the couches with their faces in generous plates of toast, and they looked up as she emerged, bidding her tired good mornings.

'I'm callin' in sick today,' Kennedy groaned, holding his head in his hands. 'Whose idea was last night?'

Jimmy managed a snicker, but he was a little less delicate and threw his feet up on the seat opposite, leaning back and dropping his baseball cap over his face. 'Don't let your boss hear you say that.'

Rayna rolled her eyes in good humour and headed past them to search out some coffee. There was a clatter as she reached the kitchen; Deacon was standing by the counter, stirring sugar into two mugs. He turned towards her and caught her eye at the same moment she saw him, and they stood still for a moment, staring at each other.

'Hey,' he said gently, his face crinkling into a crooked smile.

'Hey yourself,' she returned, feeling more shy than she ever had around him. He held one of the mugs out to her and she took it, peering into it.

'I made you coffee,' Deacon said, his voice small, and Rayna felt her heart leap in response. 'The vanilla one you like.'

Vanilla coffee was her favourite; she drank it whenever she'd had a bad day or a particularly good one. She breathed in the sweet steam and looked up at Deacon questioningly. 'I didn't think we had any of this on the bus.'

He shuffled his feet and shrugged. 'We didn't - Barb pulled over at a gas station earlier and I went out and picked some up for you.'

The smile that crept across Rayna's face made her cheeks ache. She cradled the cup to her chest and let the heat from it warm her hands. 'Thank you,' she told him, and he beamed at her.

'How'd you sleep?' He picked up his own mug and leaned against the sink; there were only a few inches between them but it felt like miles, and Rayna tried to make herself stay rooted to the spot.

'Like a baby,' she said, drifting closer anyway the moment she lost concentration. 'How 'bout you?'

Deacon looked a little sheepish. 'I didn't, really. I was thinkin' too much.'

He chewed his lip, and Rayna watched him, wishing he'd nibble on hers just that way. 'About last night?' she asked quietly, cursing herself when she realised she sounded slightly husky.

'Yeah, about last night. I can't think about anythin' else, Ray.' He moved closer still, the look on his face urgent. 'How do you-'

'Breakfast stop,' Barb hollered from up front, throwing back her partition. Rayna jumped, stepping back from Deacon quickly as the bus took a left. 'Y'all get yourselves together, let's go eat somethin' greasy. Somebody drag Vince's lazy ass upright would you? And make sure he puts pants on this time.'

Deacon sighed, giving Rayna a rueful look, and she echoed it.

'I better go change,' she said, reluctantly walking away from him towards her room as Vince clattered out of bed and the bus slowed.

#

Deacon wasn't sure how he'd made it through the day. It had been maybe the longest of his life, but for such different reasons than those that usually made time drag for him.

The audience was piling in for the evening's show and he stood by the side of the stage watching blindly. He felt something like he was floating, he had done all day, and he'd answered people's questions, nodded when he thought he should, chewed his lunch and played his notes, but he hadn't heard a single thing anyone had said and for the life in him he couldn't recall what had been in his sandwich.

Rayna's lips tasted like peaches. He'd been marvelling over the fact for hours, and at the realisation that he now had first-hand knowledge of it. Maybe she'd been wearing some kind of lip balm, he didn't know, but he was pretty damn sure he'd kissed her thoroughly enough to have rubbed off every last trace and yet when they'd broken apart, she'd still tasted of peaches.

His capacity for thought had been reduced to the most basic setting in the past twenty-four hours. It went from images of his mouth on hers, to the impossible silkiness of her hair, to how good it had felt to have his arms around her and how long he'd wanted her in them. Underpinning such details was the near-painful need to kiss her again, and he never wanted to stop.

He was vaguely aware that he'd been staring at her dumbly all morning, probably with a slackjaw smile on his face, but he couldn't help it. He'd left his brain, along with any denial he may have been hanging onto about his feelings for her, somewhere outside a scummy bar three hundred miles away, and if it meant he could keep kissing Rayna, he didn't care to have it back.

The best part was that she seemed to be just as affected as he was. She'd been gazing at him so dreamily during rehearsal that she'd forgotten the words to two of their songs, much to his satisfaction, and it had been Kennedy who'd prompted her with them while all Deacon had been able to do was grin at her. If any of the others had noticed their odd behaviour, they hadn't said anything. Vince had raised his eyebrows a couple of times but Deacon had been too slow to respond, and they'd managed to make it to show time without anybody asking where they'd been for so long the night before.

'You good to go buddy?' the stage manager asked, and Deacon realised everyone else had made their way to the staircase in the wings behind him while he'd been watching Rayna warming up her voice. He nodded and slung his guitar over his neck, and she walked towards him, taking his offered hand and letting him lead her up the steps.

Never in his life had he felt what he did on stage that night. Whatever had been building between them since the beginning had bubbled well and truly over, and the sizzle as they sang together was so intense they both found themselves breathless. It didn't pass the crowd by; the eruption as they finished each song was almost overwhelming, and Deacon lost himself in the feeling, and in Rayna, so completely that he was startled when the band stepped forward to take the bows that signalled the end of their set.

'That was _insane_ ,' Jimmy said in a rush when they thundered back down the stairs, jumping down the last two and grabbing Rayna around the waist. 'What a show, right?'

Rayna looked happier than Deacon had ever seen her. As he watched her accept sweaty hugs from Jimmy and the others, he swore to himself there and then that he would put that smile on her face with everything he was worth, as often as he could.

#

The next day was a whirlwind. Watty had scheduled media interviews for half of it, jumping onto the bits of attention they were starting to get, small mentions here and there in a few of the tour reviews, a couple of bites from record company corporates who wanted to see how they did on the rest of the leg. Rayna tried to snap herself to attention, knowing it was important to make a good impression, but she was struggling to keep her head in the game.

The night before had been such a high that they'd thrown their own party on the bus and had stayed up until dawn, rolling into the next town shortly afterwards on a handful of sleep. Rayna had wanted to get Deacon alone all night but there hadn't been the chance; he'd pulled her aside several times only to be interrupted by a drunken bandmate before they could say two words to each other.

'So it was just you and Deacon to start with?' a journalist whose name was escaping her asked in a drone of a voice, and Rayna hoped she successfully hid her yawn behind her hand as she nodded.

'It was, yeah, and when we got the tour slot we needed to add a few other guys in to round out our songs for the stage.' She glanced wistfully at the full coffee pot on the adjacent table where Kennedy and Jimmy sat, and Deacon followed her gaze.

''How have you found it being on the road all together? It must be pretty full-on, especially being the only girl.'

'It's great,' Rayna said. 'I never had brothers, so it's like getting a bunch of them all at once. They look after me.'

She looked for a second at Deacon, the obvious exception to the brotherly analogy, and he gave her a tiny knowing smile and pulled her empty mug towards him to re-fill it for her. She mumbled her gratitude a little too fervently and in response he moved his knee under the table so he could bump it with hers, and leaned across to snag the leftover slice of toast on her breakfast plate, popping it in his mouth.

The journalist stopped scribbling in her notebook and sat back in her chair, her interest piqued by their private moment, and Rayna noticed, and mirrored her stance with deliberate ease.

'We write all our own songs,' she offered, smirking behind her mug.

/

By the fourth round Rayna was barely audible, and she'd almost nodded off as the wirey-haired older man interviewing them had launched into a speech about his favourite country act, some obscure band from Alabama she'd never heard of. Deacon had sat by her side all day, and the effort to keep herself together was becoming almost unbearable.

'Oh we're havin' a great time on the road,' she said in her most Southern accent, trying her best to sound sparky but all too aware that her foot had been tapping against her chair for some time. The tiredness was morphing into nervous energy and she needed to get up and into fresh air soon or she was going to burst.

Watty popped his head around the door of the hotel room they were using and signalled that they needed to wrap things up in time to get to soundcheck, and it took all of Rayna's will not to sigh out loud in relief. Even on a normal day, press interviews were by far the most boring part of being on tour, so she was finding, even with just the handful they'd done, but today more so than any.

Watty thanked the journalist at the door and shook his hand, coming into the room as he left and perching on the edge of the couch.

'So? How did it all go?' he asked, and they all muttered incoherently at once. He raised his eyebrows. 'Long day huh?'

Rayna nodded. 'They all ask the same questions.'

'That part doesn't get any more interesting,' he said with a chuckle, throwing an arm around her shoulders. 'Listen, I've managed to get Andrea who you saw just before this last guy to run an image alongside one of these pieces. She wants just you, Rayna, so she's called in one of their photographers. He's going to swing by in a half hour.'

'A photographer? He's coming here?'

'Yeah. It'll just be a handful of candids, they don't want to do a full shoot.'

Rayna smiled weakly, glancing at herself in the mirror above the fireplace in the room. She had minimal make-up on and her hair was flat on one side from where she'd fallen asleep on one of the bus couches. 'I'll just go… sort myself out.'

She caught Deacon's eye and gave him an apologetic look, knowing they needed to talk and now wouldn't get chance before the show that evening. They were staying at the hotel for the night, but Deacon was sharing a room with Vince so there was little opportunity for him to slip away for any privacy. As Watty steered Rayna out into the hallway Deacon gave her a look so full of longing she almost ran back in and launched herself at him.

#

'Hey man,' Vince said, leaning against the breezeblock wall. 'Pretty decent show tonight. huh?'

Deacon swallowed another couple of gulps from the water fountain he was wedged under and straightened up, wiping his mouth. 'Sure was,' he agreed. 'I feel like we've really found our stride.'

Vince pushed the lever on the tap down and wet his hand, running it through his hair to slick it back and splashing a bit on his face. 'Mmhmm. Can't imagine us goin' back to real life, can you?'

'This _is_ real life, Vinny. Feels a hell of a lot more like it than day jobs and thankless bar gigs, that's for damn sure.'

'Yeah.' Vince sighed. 'The girls are more fun out on the road too.'

'That's 'cause they're usually drunk when _you_ meet 'em.' Deacon laughed, moving out of the way of a rack of stage clothes being wheeled down the corridor. 'What are you sprucin' yourself up for anyway?'

'Our buddy Brett's organised a bit of a poker tournament back at the hotel. You up for it?'

Deacon hesitated, glancing down the corridor.

'You don't still have it in for him for tryin' to put the moves on Rayna do you?'

'What? No, no. There's somethin' I gotta do. I'll probably skip the poker.'

'Somethin' you gotta do? You washin' your hair tonight?' Vince peered at him. 'You been on a whole other planet the last couple of days, man. What's goin' on with you?'

He didn't answer, and Vince narrowed his eyes. 'Did somethin' happen the other night? When you went after Rayna outside that bar? I mean I know she heard what you said about bein' in love with her and all, but I figured you'd dig yourself out of that one.'

Deacon bit his lip, and eventually shook his head. 'I kissed her.'

Vince's eyebrows shot upwards. 'You did _what_?'

'I kissed her. I kissed Rayna.' Deacon's mouth turned up into an involuntary smile, and he looked away, trying to calm the butterflies that rose in his stomach. It sounded so surreal out loud, surreal in the best way he could imagine.

'That's what you were doin' out there all that time?'

He nodded, with a little shrug of his shoulders.

Vince barked out a laugh in disbelief. 'Well, damn, my man, damn. I thought you'd brood over Rayna forevermore. You don't do things by halves, huh? Declare your love for the girl in front of a whole bar and get it on with her right after? That whole lovesick musician thing worked a treat - you might be my hero, Deac.' He slapped Deacon on the back, giving an impressed nod of his head. 'So that's what you gotta do later, Rayna?'

'Jesus, Vinny. it isn't like that - it's _Rayna_ , she's not some conquest.'

'Oh God help me, your blue balls are gonna be the death of me. What are you gonna do, give each other puppy dog eyes until you combust?'

Deacon rolled his eyes. 'It's not always about sex, man.'

Vince snorted. 'You're tellin' me you're not over the fuckin' moon that you'll get your hands on the contents of her bra? Those breasts are the stuff wet dreams are made of, my friend.' He held his hands up and snickered when Deacon shot him a warning look. 'So what did she say about your little confession?'

Deacon sighed, rubbing his arm awkwardly. 'We didn't exactly... _talk_ that night. And we haven't had chance to since, not privately. _That's_ what I gotta do tonight - I need to talk to her about everythin', figure out what we do from here.' Vince was quiet for a moment too long and Deacon frowned. 'What?'

'Nothin'.'

'What, Vince?'

'If you haven't talked to her about how she feels after hearin' all that, I mean, do you know she wants what you want? And what _do_ you want, Deac? Are you in for the full shebang - are we talkin' a relationship here?'

Deacon thought for a moment. He knew what he wanted, he'd known from the moment he'd first met Rayna. It hadn't occurred to him, though, that she might not be thinking the same thing he was now that they'd taken the first step towards being together. He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach; rarely did he let himself want anything as badly as he wanted Rayna - he hadn't been able to help himself when it came to her, and with the stakes so high, he had a hell of a long way to fall. The thought terrified him.

Vince had arrived in Nashville the same month Deacon had, and had met him in a scummy bar they'd both landed jobs in. They'd become instant friends, roommates shortly afterwards when Vince had done a runner from a shifty landlord, and more so than any friend Deacon had had in his life before, Vince had stood by his side unwaveringly. He could read Deacon's every expression, and his tendency towards falling into black holes wasn't something Vince let him indulge in wherever he could help put a stop to it.

'Come on,' he said when Deacon answered him eventually with only a helpless look. 'We're gonna go play poker.'

#

Rayna woke on top of the comforter at the foot of her creaky hotel bed. A crumpled piece of notepaper was digging into her cheek, and when she dragged herself into the bathroom, she caught her reflection and the ink stains on her skin from the words she'd scrawled. She lifted her hand to rub at them, trying to remember when she must have fallen asleep.

It had been the dead of night when she'd given up tossing and turning and started jotting lyrics down to get them out of her head in the hope of quieting her thoughts. Two full days and two nights, and the memory of Deacon kissing her until her knees had almost given out was burned into her brain with absolute clarity. It was starting to change though, from a moving picture image she played over and over that made her scrunch up her toes and breathe faster, to a longing that hurt in her chest.

She'd thought they'd finally be able to have some time alone after the show the night before, to talk, to get away from the chaos, just the two of them. To pick up where they'd left off, she'd hoped. Deacon hadn't come to her room as she'd guessed, though. They were always so in sync that she'd thought he'd know exactly where to find her without anyone else seeing them, and that he would show up at her door with the bashful smile she'd seen on him the past couple of days. But no one had knocked, and when midnight hit she'd stopped pacing and pulled on a sweater, and headed downstairs to wander through the lobby in search of him.

The poker game was the last place she'd expected to find him. Yet there he was, sat next to Vince at the table with a spread of cards in his hand. He was throwing back a generous glass of what looked like whiskey and laughing at whatever one of the roadies was saying, and to Rayna's dismay he didn't look like he'd given her a second thought all night.

'Umf,' she groaned, dragging her fingers through her tangled hair and staring herself down in the mirror. The lack of sleep and the growing uneasy feeling she had twisted together and a wave of nausea hit her; she sat on the edge of the tub and took a couple of deep breaths. Maybe it had meant more to her than it had to Deacon. Maybe she'd done something wrong, or he'd changed his mind about what he'd said and didn't want anything else to happen between them.

The nausea didn't leave the pit of Rayna's stomach all morning. Deacon wasn't in the dining room at breakfast, and usually if they had a couple of hours before soundcheck they would sit on the bus and write together, but Rayna didn't see him. Vince was pretty hungover from the night before, but he merely shrugged when Kennedy asked him if Deacon was nursing a sore head in bed, and went back to chugging oversized mugs of black coffee.

He appeared as they were walking onto the stage for their half hour run through, and if he made eye contact with anyone it was brief.

'Hey,' Rayna said to him as he slung his guitar strap over his head.

'Hey,' he returned, focusing intently on a scuff in the leather.

Rayna frowned. 'Everythin' okay?'

'Yeah,' he said distractedly, 'fine.'

One of the crew signalled to them that they were good to go, and Deacon got into position and hurriedly adjusted his mic stand, avoiding any further questions from Rayna. She felt hurt, if she was honest, and confused; he'd been so different even the day before - he hadn't been able to take his eyes _off_ her, and now he couldn't look at her at all.

They ran through the opening song and Deacon played every note and sang all his harmonies, but he stared out into the empty seats and looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. He glanced over at Rayna only when she stumbled on the second verse, missing a bunch of words and cursing in frustration. She couldn't read his expression, but his eyes were dark and for just a few seconds they burned into her, like he was trying to see inside her head.

'Dude,' Vince said, sidling up to her, 'you okay?'

She scowled at him, suddenly pissed as could be. 'I'm fine, just keep playing,' she told him, and Vince retreated, looking a little surprised and maybe just a little guilty.

Their rehearsals always ended with a duet she'd written with Deacon, and as he strummed the opening notes she steeled herself. They usually shared her mic when they sang it, and as he moved closer to her she resisted the urge to step away. When he sang the first line she didn't join him, and he looked at her in question. She wasn't sure whether she wanted him to see how sad she felt or to shut him out completely, but it was out of her control and she felt her throat close up uncomfortably as she met his eyes.

Something happened as they sang: whatever mask Deacon was wearing lifted visibly from his face, and in its place was such a raw stare that Rayna could hardly catch her breath. Whenever they sang together she felt everything they tried to hide from each other and themselves be stripped away until they were left completely vulnerable. It was more apparent than it had ever been, and they weren't the only ones to notice; when the song ended they didn't move, and the rest of the band quietly left the stage, leaving them to work out whatever their silent issues were.

It was Rayna who tore her eyes away first. 'I have to go,' she mumbled, looking at the floor, and she dashed off the stage and down the stairs. She heard him call her name but she didn't turn around, and she was gone before he could stop her, racing towards the bus and shutting herself in her room.

/

Rayna was dreading the show. Being on tour and performing every night had felt like she'd always dreamed it would, and she craved it more with each day that passed, but the thought of having to get up and sing with Deacon again after whatever had happened that afternoon was not one she was relishing.

It was going to happen anyway though, and she dragged herself to her vanity to start getting ready as the afternoon turned into early evening. She was dusting powder on her nose when there was a knock at her door. Her stomach jumped and she knew it was Deacon. For a moment she considered not answering, but then she heard his voice call through the wood, and she twisted on her stool towards it.

'Ray?'

'Yeah,' she said, 'yeah, come in.'

He opened the door a sliver and stepped tentatively through it, closing it behind him but not moving too far inside. He looked nervous, and Rayna felt a wave of empathy for him despite herself. She wanted to run to him and fling herself into his arms, but she stayed where she was and waited for him to speak.

'Hey,' he said, and when she gave him a tiny smile in return he took a cautious step towards her. 'How you doin'?'

She looked at him, wondering how to answer and opting not to. Deacon took a deep breath and sat down on the very edge of her bed.

'We need to talk, huh?'

'Yeah,' she said, 'I guess we do.'

'Ray, I…' He swallowed, looking around as though he might find some words strewn in the air that could help him out. 'I'm sorry, about earlier. And last night.'

'For what exactly? Rayna asked, wanting to understand what was going through his head. She waited for him to say he wished he hadn't kissed her and he was sorry he'd led her on, and she tried to brace herself to hear the words come out of his mouth, but they didn't.

Deacon sighed heavily. 'I got scared. Last night, today - I don't know. I guess I convinced myself you don't feel the same way I do, and it about killed me. So I was an asshole, and I'm sorry.'

A little flicker of hope flared up in Rayna's stomach, and she gripped the stool. 'How _do_ you feel?' she asked faintly, feeling her heart beat up in her throat.

Deacon stared at her, and the longing was back in full force, all over his face. 'Don't you know?'

She gave a tiny shake of her head and he got up and moved around the bed, sitting in front of her so that his knees were touching hers. Rayna held her breath, sure she would faint any second.

'Do you regret it, Ray?' he asked. 'Should I not have kissed you?'

She knew then that she'd been right all along about how he felt. He looked so worried as he waited for her answer and she smiled at him, a big, genuine smile.

And then she wasn't quite sure where her nerve came from, but she was on her feet and there before him with her hands on his strong shoulders before she realised she was going to do it. She stepped between his legs and leaned towards him, and without another thought, she kissed him.

Deacon smiled into her lips, his sigh of relief warm as it spilled out into her mouth, and he pulled her to him, his arms circling her waist. The heat she'd felt a few nights ago, and every time she'd conjured the memory since, came flooding back, scorching every part of her body. Deacon eased her lips apart and one of his hands wound into her hair, drawing her further down towards him. She felt like she would drown and she didn't for a single second care.

He pulled back only far enough to speak. 'Does that mean you don't think it was a mistake?'

Rayna grinned. 'If it was, it was the best one I've ever made.'

He laughed, his eyes sparkling in the way she loved most of all, and stood, enveloping her with his body and smoothing her hair behind her ear with gentle fingers. She felt her insides turn to liquid and stared up at him, unable to believe what was happening. He looked at her for a moment, the moment before they knew it would all change with no going back, and without any hesitation he kissed her again; from there they were irretrievable. Somehow they ended up moving across the room, and Rayna realised hazily that he'd pressed her up against the wall at some point. She gripped the collar of his shirt and kept him as close as she possibly could, and their shared joy fused together with the lust coursing through them to make them forget all sense of where they were.

The knock at the door sounded miles away, and it was accompanied by someone calling Rayna's name. Confused, she pulled herself from Deacon's lips and looked at him as she asked who it was. He moved to her neck, nuzzling her there, and she completely missed the answer from whoever spoke, her eyes fluttering closed blissfully.

'Rayna?'

'...Just a minute,' she said, trying her hardest to gather her wits. She thought it sounded like Watty, and the realisation was enough to make her straighten up and blink herself back to earth.

Deacon straightened too, gazing at her in just as much of a fog. 'Rumbled,' he grinned, letting go of her and taking a step back, though he looked like he wanted to do anything but. They were both breathing heavily, their clothing crumpled and Rayna's shoes kicked halfway across the room.

'I'll go in here,' Deacon managed to get out, heading for the little bathroom in the corner and pulling the door closed.

Rayna glanced in the mirror; her lips were puffy, her hair all over the place where Deacon's hands had run through it over and over. She tried to comb it quickly with her fingers, smoothing down her shirt and wiping her mouth, her entire body feeling like jelly.

'Come in,' she called, picking up her forgotten make-up bag and swiping her skin with the first brush she grabbed. 'Just doin' my face,' she said as Watty's head appeared around the door.

'Hey Rayna, I just wanted to see if you were ready to meet with Jacob,' he said, thankfully staying where he was. 'He's out in the hotel foyer.'

'Who?'

'The A&R from Columbia - remember I told you he was in town tonight?' Watty peered at her from where he stood. 'You okay Rayna? You look a little flustered.'

Rayna busied herself with her powder brush, hoping to deflect attention from her pink face. 'Oh I'm great, it's real hot in here,' she said, fanning herself with her hand for emphasis. 'Sure I remember, I'll be ready right away. Meet you inside?'

Watty looked unconvinced, but he nodded anyway and closed the door.

Rayna breathed out, her head dropping into her hands as she laughed to herself. She could taste Deacon on her tongue and she wanted to jump around the room in her elation.

The bathroom door clicked open and Deacon's happy face emerged. 'Do I need to hide from Watty for the rest of this tour or did he buy that?'

'You should probably hide from him for the rest of your career,' Rayna said, getting up and moving towards his waiting arms. To be able to touch him was such a brand new revelation and she felt it in every part of her body. 'Now get out of here, I need to start on my make-up all over again. You gonna make a habit of makin' a mess of me?'

Deacon snickered. He hovered by her earlobe and sucked it lightly. 'I'm damn well gonna try.'

#

A lot of writing happened over the days that followed. They had more songs in them than ever before, and the need to get their feelings onto paper was overwhelming. They'd become so used to writing together as their friendship had developed that the lifting of the last barrier between them had opened a floodgate they could only race along with.

Of course it wasn't without distraction.

'It's not _stoppin'_ us gettin' this done,' Deacon growled into Rayna's ear one morning in a park they'd managed to sneak away to for a couple of hours. 'It's _helpin'_ us - we got more to write about.'

Rayna giggled as he kissed his way along her jaw, her protest merely perfunctory anyway. It amazed her how much she craved his lips, how she could kiss him and kiss him without a single thought entering her head, other than how delicious it felt from the tip of her nose right down to her toes. The tour was busy, their schedule packed, and they hadn't been able to find nearly enough time to spend alone, a lot of their songwriting happening huddled in a corner of the bus, but they were damn sure to make the most of it whenever they did. They hadn't wanted anyone to know what was going on between them, not needing noses to be poked into something so new and so _theirs_. It made it all the more exciting to hold such a secret in their hands.

Rayna lay on her back with the grass prickling her neck, the dappled sun streaming down on them through the leaves of an ancient oak tree. The park was quiet, dog walkers and mothers with strollers its main occupants, and somewhere nearby a stream gurgled. Deacon was propped on one elbow above her, twisting a piece of her hair around his finger while he kissed her again and again, softly, more insistently, back to softly.

'You think we can miss the bus tonight?' he mused. 'We could just stay here, build a little house right under this tree, just you an' me.'

She sifted her fingers through his thick hair, peering up at him teasingly, full of butterflies. ' _This_ tree? You sure? Not that one over there? Or one of those really wrinkly ones by the duck pond?'

Deacon laughed deep in his throat, a sound she loved so much her heart swelled. 'I ain't never been happier than I am right here under this exact tree.'

She smiled at him, the sentiment echoed entirely, and lifted her head to close the couple of inches between them. Next to her lay his discarded guitar and a sheet of lyrics about stolen moments that they knew would give them away if sung to anyone but each other. Their new material was better than ever; something had clicked into a place it had always belonged, and they knew they had hits on their hands. Some, though, would only ever be for the two of them, too personal to be shared, the eggshell wonder of new love captured so honestly it couldn't be mistaken for anything but truth.

'Wanna get ice cream on the way back?' Rayna asked, glancing at her watch and realising with a pang that it was time for them to leave.

'I sure do, baby.' Deacon's strong hands helped her to her feet, and she stood and leaned into him for a moment, looking up at him with a tingle blooming through her whole body. It was the first time he'd called her baby, and she wanted to hear it every moment of every day.

She tucked her hand into his, happy as could be, and walked with him to an ice cream parlour they'd passed on the way to the park, sharing a horrifyingly-sized mint chocolate chip as they strolled back to the venue.

#

Deacon gave another glance over his shoulder. He knew everyone was sleeping, it was 2am and he could hear the chorus of snores coming from the bunks, but he stood for a moment and listened anyway. When he was sure no one was watching, he turned the handle of Rayna's door as quietly as he could.

'Ray?' he whispered into the dark, and the sheets on her bed rustled.

'Deacon?' her sleepy voice answered, and he closed the door behind him, slipping into the room.

'Can I come in?'

In the dim lick of moonlight he saw her sit up, and she nodded. He moved closer to her bed and sat on the edge but she shook her head, and he stood quickly, unsure if he was overstepping a line.

Rayna laughed softly. 'Get in,' she told him, and pulled back the sheets.

It wasn't the first time he'd been in her bed, but it was the first time he'd done so with permission to hold her, and he wanted to so badly his fingertips tingled. She laid back down and twisted onto her side to face him, and he did the same, careful to leave a few safe inches between them. They were still for a minute, looking at each other, and Deacon was struck by how beautiful she was in the silver hue. He reached out a hand and stroked her cheek.

It was Rayna who moved closer first. Her bare legs brushed his as she repositioned herself and Deacon took a couple of deep breaths. He let his hand trail down to her shoulder and brush over her skin there, mesmerised by how smooth it was. Her face was so close to his that he could feel her puffs of sweet breath, and he took in how rumpled and languid she looked.

'Did I wake you?' he asked, rubbing little circles on her arm with his thumb, and she shook her head.

'I kept wakin' up,' she said. 'I couldn't stop thinkin' about you.'

He knew she wouldn't have confessed such a truth in daylight, and he decided he loved secret moments in the small hours with her maybe most of all. 'I couldn't stop thinkin' about you either.'

She kissed him tenderly, just for a moment, but her lips lingered millimetres from his when she moved back and he couldn't help himself for another second. He took her bottom lip between his and when she whimpered he felt it as much as heard it. Her head dropped back onto the pillow and he followed, opening her lips with his own and sliding his tongue into her mouth. Rayna grasped his face, pulling him closer still, and pressed her body up against him.

They'd been making out every day for close to a week, but pretty innocently, and fully clothed. Being in her bed felt different, and in the depths of night, wrapped in the intimacy that darkness brought, they were fast moving into new territory. He wasn't sure how or when he rolled halfway on top of her but _damn_ did she feel good against him. She was wearing tiny pyjama shorts, he discovered when he moved his hand down her side and over her thigh, and it startled him so much that he pulled himself away.

'What's wrong?' she asked breathlessly.

Struggling to get a grip on his own breathing, he looked down at her, her lips wet and her hair fanned out in all directions. She was more enticing than he'd ever seen her, and he knew it was going to take some serious self-control to do right by her.

'Nothin' baby, it's the opposite of wrong,' he said, shaking his head. 'I'm, ah, havin' a little trouble controllin' myself around you.' She stroked his jaw, and he turned and kissed the inside of her wrist, holding her hand to his face as they both worked to calm themselves down.

'Will you stay with me Deacon?' she asked in a whisper. 'I want to fall asleep with you.'

He lowered his head and kissed the tip of her nose, each of her cheeks, her lips. 'I can't think of any better way to fall asleep than with you in my arms,' he said, and pulled her into his side. She curled into him, and within a minute or two, he felt her breathing slow and her body go limp.

#

Rayna was starting to wonder if maybe her bones had been replaced with marshmallows. As the days went on, she was sure they were getting less and less concerned with holding her together, and the morning she woke slowly to the realisation that Deacon was in her bed, fast asleep and wrapped around her, she decided it was fact.

She spent the rest of the day in a daze, her stomach fluttering every time she thought of the newness of it all, that it was real. She revelled in how his fingers had stolen into her hair and his lips had drifted to her forehead as he'd rasped a good morning to her. She was sure there wasn't any better way to wake up.

'You're quiet today,' Vince remarked as they packed up after soundcheck and headed to grab some food, the afternoon sun pale outside. One of the sound tech guys had grabbed Deacon to run through some details, and he'd nodded to them to go ahead, his signal that he'd catch them up.

'Hmm?' Rayna asked, staring at Vince blankly. She vaguely registered him tilt his head and study her face, clearly clocking the smile she couldn't seem to wipe from it these days.

'I said you're quiet,' he repeated. 'Your head's a million miles away ain't it?'

'My head's right here, Vince. Well half here - the other half's in that diner across the street, I'm starvin'.'

'I ain't seen you eat a thing in days. You picked at that Goddamn delicious burger last night like it was made of cardboard. I got seconds out of that though, so thanks.'

They stepped around some Randy fans waiting outside the venue, a brief flurry of chatter rippling through them. A couple of girls called out Rayna's name and she waved to them, flashing a happy grin.

Vince nudged her shoulder. 'Fame at last.'

Kennedy held the door of the diner open and ushered the rest of them through before him, and Rayna picked out a corner booth, letting Vince slide in first. She wasn't being entirely honest - she couldn't even think about eating, her appetite had disappeared completely. She was sure Tandy had told her people in relationships got fatter - she was speaking from experience; she'd gained ten pounds herself when she'd dated her professor's assistant during her first year of college. Rayna, though, could only think of Deacon; food wasn't getting a look in.

She looked at the complimentary basket of fries the waitress dropped onto the middle of the table. Vince pulled it towards her and leaned in. 'So where exactly _is_ your head, huh?' he asked, close enough to her that no one else heard, and they were too busy scouring their menus anyway. 'Anywhere I might know?'

Rayna peered at him innocently, wondering if Deacon had told him what was going on with them. There wasn't a lot he didn't tell Vince, and she could see in his face that he knew something, if not the whole story. She stuffed a couple of fries in her mouth. The doorbell pinged a moment later, saving her from having to find an answer, and Deacon dropped down beside her, flashing her a smile as he picked up a menu. His eyes stayed fixed on her instead of the extensive list of sandwiches and fried chicken; he ran his fingers through his hair and she felt a funny tightening in her throat - he was so _hot_.

Night after night she saw girls in the audience try to catch his eye and dance in what they thought was a seductive way in his direction. An endless supply threw themselves at him when they hit up bars after their shows, and he never paid a single one any attention beyond being polite. Rayna realised now that was because he'd been focused only on her, and she felt a thrill run through her, followed quickly by disbelief. The way he looked at her, even in the middle of a nondescript diner with sticky tabletops, made her feel like she needed to take a lie down in a cold bath.

'Your friends comin' to see the show tonight Rayna?' Jimmy asked, shoving four fries in his mouth at once.

'Yeah,' she said, 'they'll be almost here by now. They're gonna come out with us after.'

'Awesome,' Vince said. 'I always thought the brunette was cute.'

Rayna rolled her eyes. 'The brunette is Katie - if you're gonna hit on her you should at least try to remember her name.'

'Who said I was gonna hit on her? I'm not some kind of ladies' man, you know, Rayna.' He made a show of sticking his nose in the air in affectation and spotted their waitress as he did so. The wink he threw her was almost involuntary, Vince's version of a twitch.

'You got ketchup on your chin,' the girl said, her face impassive.

Vince hurriedly wiped the smudge away as the table erupted into snickering laughter, and Deacon gave the girl an apologetic smile. 'He doesn't get out much,' he said, picking up his menu.

'Maybe he should keep it that way,' she replied. 'What can I get you honey?'

'Er, Ray, you wanna share some chicken fingers?'

Rayna nodded happily, and he handed the menu back to the waitress, who scribbled on her notepad as the rest of them put in their orders. A pot of coffee appeared a couple of minutes later, gratefully received by all of them.

'I don't think we've slept a proper night since we came out on this tour,' Jimmy said, yawning. 'I feel like my veins must be full of shitty coffee.'

'That's 'cause every night's a party,' Vince said. 'We're young, we're free - who needs to sleep when you can be havin' a good time?' He clapped Deacon on the shoulder. 'Right Deac? Girls and beers and music, that's what life's all about.'

Deacon laughed, and under the table, ever so discreetly, he reached for Rayna's hand where it rested on her leg. It felt so sensual when he twined his forefinger slowly around hers that she felt her face heat up. She dipped her head and tried to hide behind her cup, letting the feeling flood through her.

'Yeah, man,' Deacon said, grinning from ear to ear, 'that's what life's all about. Beer and music and a girl who gives you a _real_ reason for sleepless nights.'

Vince didn't say anything else, but Rayna caught the glimmer of a smile on his face and he winked at her as he reached for the last of the fries.

#

'I can not believe how cool this is,' Katie said, walking beside Rayna through a backstage corridor filled with people pushing crates of equipment and congratulating each other on a great show. 'You've gone from waitin' tables to bein' a star.' She squeezed her arm, hugging Rayna to her.

'I wouldn't say _that_ ,' Rayna replied, ''but it's so much fun bein' up there on that stage, I don't know how I'll ever get off it and go back to the diner.'

'You won't, sweetie - you were made for this. There ain't a thing in the world should ever keep you from doin' it.' Annabelle, ever glamorous, had sat in the second row shimmering so brightly Rayna had been able to pick her out in an instant. Her heels tapped on the floor as she walked, and Rayna admired the yellow dress and perfectly teased beehive that made her look like she belonged in a smoky jazz club.

'Thanks Annie.' She sighed, overcome with gratitude - that she had the chance to do what she truly loved, and that her friends had travelled so far to support her in it. 'I'm so glad you guys are here. I can't believe you really are - I feel like I'm dreamin'.'

The boys were waiting for them back at the hotel, where Rayna changed hurriedly while they all piled into her room and cracked open some beers to start the night off. She listened to their chatter from the little bathroom as she threw on a tank top and a tiny crimson suede skirt Tandy had lent her, and as she ran her fingers through her hair to shake the curls about her shoulders, she caught sight of her happy face in the mirror.

The afterparty was in the bar downstairs, and they squeezed into one elevator together, the mood one of adventure for the night ahead. It was one echoed by everyone else too; they spilled out into a sweaty crowd of chatter, celebration in the air.

'Alright y'all,' Vince declared as they manoeuvred through the crew and rest of their tour mates. 'We're doin' shots. I only got one question for ya - whiskey or tequila?'

Tequila, it turned out, was the order of the night, and he handed back glass after glass until they'd all been passed one. They lifted the generous measures in a toast and swallowed them down at the same time, slamming them back on the bar one by one.

'My _throat_ ,' Rayna laughed, 'that stuff is disgusting.'

'You know what they say - if it tastes bad, you need another,' Kennedy told her, and he was right - two more shots in and Rayna wasn't so repulsed at all.

'Y'all looked like you've been doin' this forever,' Katie said later, her face full of awe. They'd managed to nab one of the couches at the far end of the room, and they'd made themselves comfortable, taking it in turns to go back to the bar. 'You sounded unbelievable - I could listen to you sing every night of my life.'

Rayna curled into the middle of the couch, the worn brown leather sticking slightly to her legs. Katie and Annabelle were squished in on one side of her, Deacon on the other. The more she drank the less space she left between them, and she realised at some point that his arm was draped behind her. She could tell his fingers were itching to touch her, and she felt a giddiness that made her head spin; between the alcohol and the proximity of him, she could hardly keep herself together.

'You know what's really unbelievable? That Old Billy let you both off a shift at the same time.'

'Oh you know how much he loves you,' Annabelle told her. 'He damn near jumped in the backseat and hitched a ride up here with us to see you himself.'

Rayna laughed, picturing the old man churning out plates of eggs while he sang along to Willie Nelson records in the kitchen. 'I'd have been happy to see him, I miss that beard. I'm so relieved I didn't mess up - I got so excited lookin' out and seein' y'all in the audience I almost forgot where I was.'

'We wouldn't have missed bein' here for anythin'. I feel like I'm watchin' my baby girl growin' up.' Annabelle squeezed Rayna's hand. 'All those people, oh my goodness. A girl sittin' behind me knew the _words_.'

Katie snorted. 'Annabelle turned right around and told her you were our friend, obviously. She was super impressed.' She glanced at Annabelle with wide eyes. 'And _then_ she asked if you and Deacon-'

'Anyone for another drink?' Annabelle interrupted, pulling a confused Katie to her feet and not really listening to anyone's reply.

Rayna watched them disappear in the direction of the bar, puzzled, and Deacon leaned in and whispered in her ear. 'Wanna meet me out front in a couple of minutes?'

Her stomach jumped in instant anticipation and she gave him a little nod, getting a kick out of his attempt to hide his smile by biting his lip.

'I gotta make a call,' he said to their group, and she wondered as he headed towards the lobby doors how discreet they were actually being. She glanced around at the rest of them, trying to make her face look as neutral as possible. The guys didn't look suspicious in any way, and she counted to ten in her head and cleared her throat.

'Little chilly in here, isn't it?' She rubbed her arms for effect. 'I'm just gonna go grab a sweater from my room. I'll be right back.'

She walked deliberately towards the elevators and waited there for a moment, daring to look back at the table. She saw Annabelle and Katie return with a pitcher of something and set it and a stack of glasses down; she waited until they'd sat, and satisfied no one was looking in her direction, changed course and beelined for the front doors.

Deacon was waiting for her outside, a few paces away from the doors in the shadows, and she raced to him as he grinned and opened his arms to her.

'I've been wanting to get you alone all night,' he said as he kissed her heatedly, and she murmured something about feeling the same way and lost herself completely half a second later. Their kiss was urgent and greedy, the necessity to keep their hands off each other in front of other people sending them both hurtling towards insanity.

'Mmm Deacon,' Rayna uttered against his mouth, loving the feel of his hands in her hair. He had an arm around her waist holding her tightly to him but she couldn't get close enough. He turned her and pressed her up against the wall and they both gasped, their bodies hot against each other. Rayna wound her arms around his neck, his tongue flicking into her mouth, and only when the doors flung open did they break apart, breathing heavily.

'Shit, sorry,,,' someone said, and they both looked around to see one of the crew guys with an unlit cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, a lighter in his hand frozen in motion halfway towards it.

'Brodie, hey man,' Deacon said awkwardly, and Rayna tried not to laugh. They didn't know him more than to occasionally shoot the breeze with, but Deacon and Vince had shared a few smokes with him here and there, and the road was a place where everyone knew everyone, more or less.

He flicked open his lighter. 'I knew it. No way anyone sings together like you do and ain't gettin' it on.'

'Ah…' Deacon stuttered, glancing at Rayna, and she bit the inside of her cheeks.

'Take it you're out here 'cause you don't want everybody knowin' your business?'

They nodded, more than a little sheepishly.

The guy winked at tham, and lit his cigarette. 'Secret's safe with me.' He breathed out a puff of smoke and Rayna felt Deacon relax.

'Come on,' he said, giving Brodie a nod of thanks and opening the door for Rayna. She made straight for the elevators, out of sight, and Deacon followed her. He looked around, checking no one was watching, and kissed her quickly, though his lips idled on hers longer than they probably should have. When he wrenched himself away from her she couldn't help but chase his mouth again involuntarily, and they let themselves get carried away for another few seconds.

'I'll go back first,' Deacon said, his hand sliding up and down her arm. He gave her a conspiratorial smile and reluctantly stepped back, and she watched him round the corner.

For a minute or two she leaned against the wall next to the elevator doors, getting her breath back and trying to wipe the dazed look from her face. When she figured enough time had passed, she headed back through the milling people to their couch.

'Hey y'all,' she said, dropping down next to Deacon, who she tried not to look at too obviously.

'There you are,' Katie said, grabbing her hand. 'We were about to send out a search party. Thought one of these cute roadies might have stolen you away.'

Vince leaned across to her, handing her a full glass. 'Change your mind about your sweater, did you Rayna?'

'My what?'

He motioned towards her bare arms and she cursed under her breath. 'My sweater. Yeah I… couldn't find one that matched my skirt.' She looked at the girls. 'Can't go ruinin' an outfit for the sake of keepin' warm, right?'

Vince snickered, putting his feet up on the table. 'You look warm enough already, if you ask me.'

Rayna shifted in her seat and gulped down half of her drink, hoping to deflect attention from herself.

'We were just sayin', isn't it great how y'all get to stay in these hotels?' Annabelle said. 'Beats livin' in my house, that's for get a freshly made up bed and you don't even have to put up with a snorin' husband.' She lifted her drink in a toast to the notion. ' _That's_ what I'm talkin' about.'

'You don't have to bunk in with Vinny,' Deacon said, 'I'd rather share a room with your old man. Trucks make less noise than this guy.'

'I don't _snore_ ,' Vince objected. He gestured around the room. 'Ask any one of these groupies - I'm nothin' but a delight overnight.'

Kennedy roared with laughter. 'You mean you've slept with more than Stacey Pink Bra? Funny, I don't remember any other girls fallin' at your feet.'

'It's only a matter of time, brother. Katie, Annabelle - I'm at your service.'

Rayna shook her head. 'Luckily for these two ladies, tonight is not their night to go anywhere near your feet, Vince. We've got a date with pyjamas and facepacks in my room just as soon as you get too drunk to locate your dignity.' She twisted her arm to look at an imaginary watch. 'Oh hey, look at that - it's time. Girls, shall we?'

'Three girls in one room, in pyjamas… that image is all I need for a good night's sleep.' Vince laid back in his seat with his arms behind his head. and Rayna tossed a peanut at him from the bowl on the table that he caught and shoved into his mouth.

The three of them got up, bidding goodnights all round, and Deacon rose to his feet, kissing Annabelle on the cheek and giving Katie a hug. His face was full of longing when he said goodnight to Rayna, and the embrace he gave her made her ache deep in her stomach. She was still getting used to the intensity of the feelings he stirred in her - or to the acknowledgement of them. They'd been there before, but the unleashing of them was powerful and heady beyond anything she'd known was possible.

/

'What a night,' Katie said, dropping onto Rayna's bed. 'This is such a great life.'

Rayna sighed in contentment, turning on a lamp and settling down beside her. 'It sure is.'

'And there are so many guys, I wouldn't even know where to start.'

'I think I'd have an idea,' Annabelle said with a twinkle. With a drink in her, her already rouged cheeks were pinker than usual, and her beehive had started to tilt just a little to one side. 'You and Deacon sure set that stage on fire tonight, Rayna.'

Rayna blushed furiously, and Katie looked at her with wide eyes. 'Has somethin' happened? With you and Deacon?'

'Of course it has,' Annabelle chuckled. 'I knew the minute he stood next to you up there, it was like this…' She waved her arms in the air, looking for the right word. 'It was like a _crackle_. And then of course when you started singin' together...well. The whole theatre knew it, honey.'

'You think?' Rayna squeaked, trying to calm the way her heart raced just thinking about Deacon.

'Has he kissed you?' Katie gushed. 'Oh please tell me he's kissed you.' She pushed herself upright and Annabelle leaned forward in her chair, both looking at Rayna expectantly. She nodded and broke into a smile, and a rush of high pitched nonsense burst from the girls.

'I can't believe you've kept this in all night! When did it happen?'

Rayna plucked at a loose thread on the duvet, thinking back to the night in Chicago. 'It was only a week ago, the first time.'

'The _first_ time? So it's happened again since?'

'Oh it's happened a _lot_ of times since.'

She told them everything, about what Deacon had said in the bar, about the kiss, relief flooding through her at being able to talk to someone about the only thing she'd been able to think about. When she got to the part about the song he'd written for her, Annabelle moved to sit on the bed with them, unable to hold herself back.

'He wrote a _song_ about you,' she breathed, taking Rayna's hand. 'He wrote you a love song - it doesn't get better than that. My Chuck's only ever written me a grocery list.'

Katie sighed, a dreamy look on her face. 'I always knew he was a romantic. And we've been sayin' ever since we first met both of you that they way he looks at you, oh Rayna, some people are just put on this earth for each other.' She lifted an eyebrow. 'I'll bet he's a _hell_ of a good kisser, right?'

Rayna felt a little woozy. 'Mmhmm,' was all she could muster. 'My knees feel all weak just thinkin' about how good he is.'

'I don't know whether I need to lie down or go find me a genie to grant me one night swappin' places with you,' Annabelle said. 'What in the world are you doin' in here with us when you could be off lettin' Deacon make you swoon?'

Katie leaned closer, looking like she wasn't sure if she should ask something, but she went for it anyway. 'Have you…you know?'

Rayna's eyes widened. 'No,' she said quickly, shaking her head. 'No, nothin' like that. Just kissing. I mean, _kissing_ , but just kissing. I haven't ever...you know.'

'Honey don't you rush yourself.' Annabelle pursed her lips, her lipstick a little smudged onto her teeth. 'That boy has already declared his undying love for you, would you even - he ain't goin' nowhere. Girls these days feel so much pressure to have sex too soon. Hell, I lost my virginity in the backseat of a piece of shit truck on the side of the highway.' She rolled her eyes. 'A bed wouldn't have gone amiss, Chad Burrows.'

'Whenever you decide you're ready, I just know it will be perfect,' Katie chimed in. 'Your first time will be with a guy who writes songs about you and stands on a stage in front of all those people lookin' at you like he can't believe you're real - there won't be a backseat in sight.'

Rayna let out a long breath, her stomach almost leaping out of her body at the thought of sleeping with Deacon. She knew it was too soon to be even considering anything of the sort but it made her feel fuzzy in a way that was brand new to her. She flopped backwards onto the bed, letting herself savour the sensation, and was asleep the minute her eyes closed.

#

Deacon, though few knew it, craved affection. It wasn't an obvious assumption; he had that dark thing going on, the brooding stare, the often-present frown between his eyebrows. But it was something he'd always wished for. He hadn't had a whole lot of it in his life, and when it had come his way it had mostly been from unrequited places. His past girlfriends had been one of two things: a little superficial and interested in him only for the way he looked and the fact he was good with a guitar, or needy and clingy, wanting him to dote on them and smothering him in the process.

Rayna, though, he wanted in his arms every moment of every day. The sweet affection she gave him was straight from her heart - each touch was real, each look his way told him she was as reverent about what was happening between them as he was. Her skin was exquisite; he was enchanted by the smell of it. She had quickly developed a thing for his neck - her hands found themselves there more often than not and he couldn't get enough; he'd never had a girl give him shivers through his whole body. When she stroked his face with her delicate fingers, her unguarded eyes locked on his, he felt the hardships of his life drain away, like she was soothing him, healing his pains and his fears without needing to say a word.

Deacon found himself having to fight the desire to touch her when they were around other people to such an extent he gave himself jaw ache from the effort. He tossed and turned every night, unable to wait to jump out of his bunk come morning to see her, and how he longed to pull her to him when he did. Their problem, though, was being surrounded by people almost all of the time, and Deacon was starting to think he would lose his mind if he couldn't get her all to himself soon.

He had a plan, though. Rayna's friends left early the morning after their Topeka show, and they were hitting the road themselves after breakfast. That night they would be playing a show in a neighbouring city and driving towards Colorado straight afterwards, and they'd be sleeping on the bus, arriving the next morning. There was no aftershow, and the guys had been joking about how they'd have an excuse for an early night to catch up on some much-needed sleep without having to miss out on any fun. Deacon, in his Rayna-starved state, was thrilled at the prospect.

'Hey,' he said into her ear when they were hanging about in reception waiting for Kennedy to haul his ass down from the room he'd shared with Jimmy, 'I got an idea.'

'Oh yeah?' She was just as desperate as he was to have some time to themselves, he knew, and she looked hopeful he'd found a way. 'Hey, anyone want a coffee to take on the bus?' she asked the rest of them, and Jimmy nodded. Vince gave her a weak thumbs up.

'Black, ten million sugars,' he muttered.

'Hey Deacon,' she said so the rest of them would hear, batting her eyelashes at him just because she could, 'will you give me a hand?'

He followed her to the coffee machine at the far side of the lobby, trying not to look like he was trailing her like an eager puppy. There were times he was half a second from humping her leg and he chuckled to himself, looking down at her in disbelief that she was his girl; she was incredible. She sauntered a couple of steps in front of him in her tiny ripped jean shorts and cowboy boots, a skinny little vest showing off her tanned shoulders and the sprinkling of freckles across them. He could clearly see her black bra through the cotton and he couldn't help but look longingly at it, wondering if she was trying to damn near kill him.

'So what is this idea?' she asked, hitting a button on the machine and spinning around to face him.

For a second he had no clue what she'd asked him, so distracted in staring at her as he was, and she laughed, a sultry little sound that made him involuntarily lean in towards her. The look on her face said she knew she had him in the palm of her hand, and she smiled invitingly at him.

'Deacon?' she said, amused, but his name rolled off her tongue in the voice she used when she was thoroughly enjoying herself and he just couldn't resist. He glanced behind them, made sure no one was looking, and stole the quickest of kisses from her. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as he pulled away, relishing the taste of him, and the two of them stood and grinned at each other like fools.

'My idea,' he said after a moment, reaching around her and replacing the full cup of coffee with an empty polystyrene one, and delighting when she shivered at the brush of his hand against her arm, 'is that we go on a date. Tonight.'

'A date? But we're on the bus, how can we go anywhere?'

'Well that's just it - we can't. I wanna take you out on a real date so bad, Ray, dinner and candles and all that stuff, but we can't do that right now, and I can't take pretendin' I ain't goin' crazy over you every second of the day and night. So I wanna ask you if you'll go on a date with me - a real, official date...on the bus.' He grinned. 'For now.'

She laughed, shaking her head at him fondly. 'But how? Everyone will be there.'

'I got it figured out, baby. I'm thinkin' after the show, you go to bed early with a headache, but leave your door open a little bit.' She nodded, listening intently. 'The boys are gonna be havin' a quiet one tonight so they won't think it's off if I tell them I'm beat and get into my bunk. I watch 'em through the curtain and the second they ain't lookin', I slip into your room.'

Rayna beamed, letting herself touch his arm and stroke his skin lightly. He felt himself grown warmer at the simple gesture. 'I like the sound of that,' she said.

'Is that a yes?' He tangled her fingers in his. 'Will you go on a bus date with me Ray?'

She gave him her biggest, brightest smile, and he thought he might burst. Her nod was full of enthusiasm, and when she whispered that she couldn't wait, he leaned into her again. He was an inch from her lips when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

'Ah, excuse me?' one of the other hotel guests said behind them. 'Your coffee's overflowed.'

/

It was a long day, a lot of driving and a rushed soundcheck, the shortest they'd ever done. They stood in the wings and watched Randy perform, as they did most nights, and the minute he finished his encore the crew started packing up the venue. A huddle of Randy's fans were crowded outside the gates as they drove through, and Deacon watched them try to peer through the windows to see who was on their bus.

He sat back on one of the couches, his foot tapping on the floor. It was a little after 11pm, and he knew it would be at least an hour before he could excuse himself without raising suspicions. Vince knew they'd kissed the first time, sure, but Deacon hadn't told him much since, and he deliberately hadn't given him chance to ask, though he knew he was desperate to. It would be a different story once the tour was finished, of course, but the bubble of being on the road was too intense to start a new relationship in, and he was handling it with care even when it came to his best friend. It wasn't just any new relationship - this was _Rayna_. He had to pinch himself every time he thought about that.

He sat, trying not to look obviously impatient, and slid his hand off the table when they dealt him into a game of Blackjack. Rayna sat opposite him, still in her stage outfit, and he could tell she was feeling just as restless as he was. After half an hour, she yawned and rubbed her temples.

'Y'all, I got a poundin' headache goin' on. I feel like my skull is bein' battered by little men with pickaxes.' She dropped her cards onto the table and stood slowly, doing a good job of feigning reluctance. 'I'm gonna go knock myself out and get some beauty sleep.'

'Maybe you should take Vince with you,' Kennedy said, 'he could do with a whole lot of beauty sleep.'

Vince flicked a card at him and scowled, giving Rayna a brief hug around the middle. 'Maybe it was Kennedy's drummin' that gave you that headache, sweetcheeks.'

'Feel better Rayna,' Jimmy called, and as she turned to walk towards her bedroom she gave Deacon a wink. He felt his heart quicken and his stomach skip; it was by sheer will that he managed to stop himself from jumping up and racing after her.

One card game blurred into another and Vince, predictably, turned it into a bet. 'Low risk tonight, y'all, we're takin' it easy. We play no higher than a dollar a round.'

'That 'cause you blew all your cash last night tryin' to get Katie wasted?' Jimmy teased.

'I ain't gonna deny that, my friend.'

Deacon half-listened to them, laughing when it seemed appropriate and glancing at the game just enough to know what was going on. His attention, though, was focused on the tiny crack of space left by Rayna's door. She'd pulled it almost to, just as he'd said, and he played his move over and over in his mind.

He looked at his watch as Kennedy won the pot, scooping a handful of dollar bills up and congratulating himself. Ten after midnight. He stretched.

'That's my cue, boys - I'm throwin' in the towel.'

'Aw Deac, don't let your envy of my gamblin' talents drive you away,' Kennedy laughed. 'I'll let you win the next round.'

Deacon patted him on the shoulder. 'Nah buddy, I'm done in.' He got to his feet. 'That was a fluke, though - next time we bust out the deck I'm gonna teach you how to play a real hand.'

He left them hurling good natured insults at each other and laughed as he headed towards the bunks. To make it seem like he was really getting into bed for the night, he went into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, pulled on a t-shirt and shimmied out of his jeans. By the time he climbed into his bunk he was nervous as hell; he took a couple of deep breaths and hoped Rayna hadn't fallen asleep waiting for him.

Behind his pillow he'd stowed a bag of things he'd managed to sneak away to pick up at a store near the venue that afternoon, and he pulled out a bottle of wine, two plastic cups, and a bag of Reese's, Rayna's favourites. He hadn't been able to find a florist, so he'd stolen a rose from someone's garden, running away before he could be caught. He twirled it between his thumb and forefinger; it was a beautiful pale yellow, and he'd plucked it free of thorns for her.

The guys were still occupied when he peered out; their heads were bent over the table in concentration, and he waited for one of them to make a move so they would cover his footsteps. The instant they did, he shot like a cat through the far edge of the curtain, pausing for a second to make sure they hadn't seen movement, and in a flash he was through Rayna's door.

He pulled it closed as quietly as he could and turned the handle to stop it clicking loudly into place. His heart was hammering, and he stood still, blind in the darkness.

'Ray?' he whispered when she didn't make a noise, and he breathed out in relief when he saw the outline of her sit up.

'We did it,' she whispered back, glee in her voice.

'We sure did,' he said, tip-toeing over to her bed. He worried suddenly that he was in his boxers and a t-shirt, and he hoped she wouldn't think he was being presumptuous.

Rayna got on top of the covers and beckoned for him to sit. He dug out the candle and lighter he'd wedged in the elastic of his boxers, lighting it and setting it down on her dressing table.

'Ooh,' she breathed, and he could see her face in the flickering glow. He instantly felt better about his choice of date outfit - she was in a cotton camisole and black shorts edged in lace, and he took in the sight of her for a moment, steeling himself, before he crawled onto the bed to join her.

'Hey,' he said, kissing her softly, and he felt her physically melt against him.

'Hey yourself,' she replied, settling back and shuffling closer to him so that their knees touched, and Deacon felt like his senses were hyper aware of her.

He reached behind him and picked up the rose, offering it to her shyly. 'For you, baby.'

Rayna's face was a picture of delight, and she took it from him, letting her hand stay on his and rising on her knees to kiss him. He caught the slight flush of her cheeks when he pulled back and as she lowered her face to smell it, the petals brushing her skin, he silently thanked whoever owned the garden he'd plucked it from.

'I brought these too,' he said, producing the bottle of wine and the Reese's.

Rayna clapped her hands together. 'You've thought of everything.'

'Of course.' He opened the bottle and handed her two cups to hold while he filled them. 'This is a bus date, after all.'

'Well I don't know why more people haven't discovered this, they're missin' out.'

Deacon laughed and lifted his cup. 'Cheers, baby. To you and me, and a whole lotta dates on wheels.'

She giggled, sipping the wine, and he swallowed, feeling the warmth spread to his fingers and toes, adding to the tingles that were already there.

Gradually they leaned back, the chocolates open between them, nibbling on them while they drank. Hours could have passed, they didn't notice, but the bus grew quiet and their whispered conversation was punctuated with kiss after kiss until there was no more talking. Deacon wasn't sure when they discarded their cups or at quite what point he ended up lying next to her, his arm around her waist and their legs twisted up together, but he found all other thoughts gone from his mind but what it felt like to lay there with her.

The heat between them was palpable, their kisses growing frantic, and he moved to her neck, sucking on the skin there. It tasted sweet, and he grunted in the back of his throat, an answering gasp coming from Rayna, who wound her fingers into his hair and pulled on it, revving Deacon up even further.

'You tryin' to give me a hickey Deacon?' she murmured breathlessly, and he chuckled.

'Hmm, maybe. I kinda like the thought of that.' He moved lower and ran his lips along her collarbone.

'Oh yeah?'

'Mmhmm. Everyone wonderin' who the lucky bastard is who got to make himself at home right here.'

He moved upwards again, his tongue tracing a line up to the patch of delicate skin below her ear. She shivered and gripped his arm, and he rubbed the stubble on his chin against the same spot. She let out a raspy moan, and he smiled into her neck in triumph; learning what made her gasp had quickly become his absolute favourite pastime. He sucked on her skin there some more, and when her chest was rising and falling rapidly, he lifted his head and kissed her lips. She relaxed into him and sighed, and it struck him how familiar this felt, how exciting and new but how very natural, like it was always meant to be so.

'I know it's only been a few days, Ray,' he said, 'but I feel like I've been kissin' you forever.'

She smiled and smoothed her fingers over his jaw, looking up at him and nodding in agreement. 'I don't ever want you to stop.' He lowered his face to hers again to assure her that he wouldn't. 'How did we ever manage to not do this, Deacon? How were we ever just friends?'

Deacon leaned back and looked at her, brushing a piece of hair back from her face gently. 'We were never just friends, Ray.'

 **###**


	5. Chapter 5

**Will never ever acknowledge the massive. horrible, painful mess that's been made of the greatest TV couple of all time. Never.**

The remnants of the bag of Reese's had melted to mush under the streak of sunshine coming through the thin curtain in Rayna's room, forgotten somewhere around their second cup of wine, though not so much down to the alcohol.

Rayna blinked heavily into the light, waking from a deep sleep. She sighed, not yet fully conscious but aware of a happy hum she felt all the way to her toes. It took her a moment to register the strong arm wrapped around her, the warm body tucked up behind hers.

Deacon was breathing evenly, tickling the back of her neck. Rayna smiled to herself, the hum turning to a whoosh and flushing her whole body with heat. She lay still for a few minutes, her eyes closed, savouring the way it felt to wake up with him. She wasn't sure when they'd fallen asleep, but she felt rested in a way she wouldn't usually after only a handful of hours dozing.

He stirred when she stretched her legs, easing out the kinks and pointing her toes into the bottom of the bed. She heard him grunt softly and felt his arm tighten around her.

'Mmm,' he mumbled, lifting his head and brushing his lips against her neck, snuggling into her. 'G'mornin' baby.'

Rayna giggled at the feel of his scruff, and twisted onto her back to look up at him. 'Hey,' she said shyly, and he lowered his head and kissed her, his lips gentle.

'Hey yourself,' he said, a goofy smile on his face.

'Can we do this every day? Fall asleep together and wake up like this?'

Deacon kissed her again. 'Baby,' he said, 'there ain't nothin' I want more. Guess I better get good at sneakin' in here, huh?'

She laughed, toying with a tuft of hair at his temple. 'I'd say you were pretty successful last night.' She pulled him down for another kiss, and it deepened of its own accord, their tongues flicking against each other's. 'Question is, how you gonna get _outta_ here without anyone seein' you?'

'Stealth, baby,' he said with a wink, 'stealth.'

The light outside was watery; it was maybe 7am, Rayna guessed. They were parked up, and she thought Barb must be sleeping too, having driven through the best part of the night. It was quiet outside the room; everyone was, for the moment, still asleep. It would be easy for Deacon to slip back into his bunk unnoticed. And yet…

'Your skin is so soft,' he whispered into her ear, tracing circles over her stomach where her tank top had ridden up, and Rayna shivered and lifted her mouth to his. Everything else around them melted away, everywhere their bodies touched racing into sharp focus.

Deacon hovered over her, sucking on her bottom lip as he ran his hand down her side, over the bare skin of her hip, the crumpled material of her pyjama shorts, down her leg. She hummed and teased him with her tongue, lifting her leg a little so it rested against his, and he smoothed his hand back up her thigh slowly, setting her entire body alight.

She could feel the strong muscles of his back through his T-shirt, and she had a sudden overwhelming urge to rip it off over his head, but she fought it, crumpling a bunch into a fist instead. She felt his hand travel from the top of her thigh and up her ribcage over her tank, and she willed him to carry on higher. When he brushed his palm over her left breast through the cotton it was gentle, and he lingered there only for a second before he pulled back and settled it on her stomach. It was a test of the waters, she knew, his way of asking how far she wanted him to go.

Rayna arched her back into him; he took the hint and pulled back from her lips for a few seconds to watch her face as he cupped her again, his fingers massaging her. Her eyes fluttered closed momentarily and when she opened them again she all but devoured Deacon's lips; he sank into her kiss, his motions becoming less tentative. She wasn't sure where her boldness came from, but without thinking she covered his hand with hers and guided it down her stomach. She felt Deacon suck in his breath when she moved his fingers up under her shirt, and she kept going until he closed them around her bare breast, her skin sizzling hot under his touch.

'Ray,' he hissed, kissing her hard and rubbing her nipple relentlessly, and she saw stars behind her eyelids. She moaned, her fingers gripping his hair and holding him to her, and he shifted himself and slid his other hand up to take care of her right breast at the same time.

The clatter of feet outside came just as Deacon was starting to peel her tank up to pull it off her, and he stopped, his eyes widening.

'Damn it,' he whispered, and Rayna pushed herself up onto her elbows, breathing heavily.

'It's someone going to the bathroom,' she said, straining to hear the click of the latch. 'You gotta be quick.'

Deacon scrambled up off the bed, out of breath himself, and leaned down to kiss her, his hair sticking up adorably in all directions. 'I'll see you in a little bit, baby,' he said. As he made for the door, he turned back and shot her a grin. 'Thank you, Ray - this was the best date I ever been on.'

#

The basketball game had been going for an hour. It had gathered quite the crowd, the lure of a ball being tossed between buses an attractive one: a couple of the guys from the other support act had joined in, some of the crew after ferrying equipment into the venue, two of Randy's back-up singers, statuesque women taller than any of the men.

Deacon dribbled the ball, bouncing it a few times more than necessary, enjoying himself. He couldn't have wiped the shit-eating grin off his face if he'd tried, and a good-natured bit of sport under the blazing sun only added to his elation. He squinted up at the net, sizing up the distance.

Rayna's breasts. In his hands. Her breath in his ear. Lucky sonofabitch.

He took his aim. The ball slipped easily through the net and bounced off the tarmac below.

'Nice shot buddy,' one of the crew congratulated him, swooping in to take his go and offering Deacon a slap on the back.

He turned around and grinned. Rayna, leaning against the side of the bus watching the action, winked at him in response, and he all but burst. She'd emerged from her room a couple of hours earlier in jeans and cowboy boots, with a top that skimmed her cleavage so teasingly, Deacon had had to go and take a minute by himself in the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He'd known it was just for him, a secret nod to their morning activity to drive him crazy, and it sure was doing the trick.

'Not bad, Deacon,' she told him. She had her arms folded around her waist, sunglasses on the top of her head, and he thought she was the sexiest sight he'd ever laid eyes on. His gaze, for the hundredth time since breakfast, drifted down to her chest, and he swallowed.

'Thanks,' he said, leaning next to her, probably too close but he couldn't help himself. 'You gonna play?'

She shook her head. 'I'm awful at ball games - no way I'd get it in the thing.' She waved her hand around in a little circle.

'The net?' Deacon asked, amused, and she nodded in triumph.

'The _net_.' She leaned in a little more; dangerous. 'Hey, I got an idea for a song, though.' She fixed him with a flirty stare and an extra bat of her lashes. 'Wanna write?'

'You bet I do.' Deacon's eyes twinkled, dropping to her lips and back to her eyes. _God_ she was beautiful, he thought, the warm feeling in his stomach spreading to every one of his fingers and toes.

She nodded towards the back entrance of the theatre. 'Come on - we got a about an hour before soundcheck.'

He grabbed his guitar and a notepad from the bus and followed her, and she led him, just as he had so recently, up through the foyer and onto the balcony. There were people everywhere, the sense of urgency that came with each new stop on the tour something they'd come to revel in. As Deacon settled into the seat next to her, the notion washed over him with absolute clarity that he'd found his place in life, finally: with Rayna, on the road, playing their music every night and kissing her until the sun came up. Writing with her, sharing his truths and turning them into lyrics - there was nothing better.

'Hey, Tandy's gonna come to the first Austin show in a few days,' she said, tucking her legs up and propping the notepad on her knee. 'She's got a meeting there that morning - she's gonna stick around and spend the night. Says she wants to take me shopping.'

'She did pretty damn well the last time she took you shoppin',' Deacon said, leaning in and dropping a kiss just below her ear. 'That dress she got for you was _nice_.'

'Oh it was, was it?' Rayna tipped her head to give him more access.

'Mmm,' he mumbled against her skin. 'You had me a wreck that night, Ray. I couldn't take my eyes off you.' He moved to her lips. 'I ain't never been able to take my eyes off you.'

She slid her hand up to his neck and twisted further towards him, and Deacon eased her lips open, loving how she sighed into him. He tried to get closer and the notepad clattered to the floor, demanding attention; Rayna pulled away with a giggle. 'We are not gonna get a single word written this way.'

'No, I don't suppose we are,' he said, grinning at her and moving back into his seat. 'Hey, are we here for two nights?'

She nodded, flipping to a fresh page and leaning over to kiss his cheek, smiling. 'You're terrible at this schedule thing, babe.'

Deacon chuckled. 'I ain't known where we are since the day we left Nashville. So we're in a hotel tonight, right?'

'Yup, gotta check in after soundcheck. And we're in Denver, by the way.' She laughed, then bit her lip and looked at him. 'You think you can sneak away for a bit tonight? After Vince falls asleep? I got a room all to myself...'

'That is exactly what I was thinkin', baby.' He picked up her hand and threaded their fingers together, lifting them to his lips. 'Hey, Ray? I just wanna say… I don't want you to feel pressured or nothin', with any of this stuff we're doin', you know.' He dropped their hands onto his knee, looking at her earnestly. 'All of this, the makin' out stuff included - we can take it as slow as you want to.'

Rayna smiled softly and cupped his cheek with her other hand, rubbing her thumb along his jaw, and he leaned into her touch. 'I don't feel pressured at all. I love all this… _stuff_ we're doin'.' She kissed him, a simple, sweet kiss that made his bones melt. 'Thank you,' she whispered.

For a second she looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn't, and when she picked up a pen and popped off the cap, he followed her lead, reaching for his guitar.

#

The Denver crowd was a fun one, and the backstage area was buzzing off the atmosphere. Rayna had somehow managed to snag the hem on her plaid shirtdress and had spent half the set discreetly trying to stop it from unravelling. Of the on-stage malfunctions they'd had so far, it was the one that had made her laugh the most.

'That is a damn shame, Rayna,' Vince said as she manoeuvred down the stairs at the edge of the stage - sideways. 'I was really hopin' to borrow that thing to wear as a belt.'

She swiped at him and hopped down the last step, chuckling as Deacon stepped in behind her.

'Just protectin' your modesty,' he said, keeping close.

'Any excuse,' she shot back in a low voice, swaying her hips just a little more than necessary.

'Rayna - great show. Really good job y'all, you're soundin' better and better.' Watty walked towards them with open arms, embracing Rayna and giving her the mile-wide beam he reserved just for her. He was in town for the first of the Colorado shows to meet with a couple of pluggers he knew in the area, hoping to get them interested in Rayna's music.

Deacon had forgotten all about his visit, and he stepped away from Rayna a little guiltily. He'd always been worried Watty could see right through him when it came to her, and now there was tangible - _very_ tangible - reason for him to chase Deacon down with a shotgun. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to look at Rayna's dangerously short hemline.

They stood together in a huddle to watch Randy's show, Watty pointing out various things of note to Rayna throughout, Vince and the boys playing air guitar during the upbeat songs. Deacon laughed, leaning against a railing and watching them, on top of the fucking world. He had better friends than he'd ever had in his life, and he had Rayna. No matter how many times he repeated it to himself, he still had trouble believing it. He couldn't stop looking at her, catching her eye whenever she snuck him a smile.

'Big aftershow tonight,' Watty said when the curtain came down, clapping his hands together and gathering the five of them around him. 'You ready to do some talkin', Rayna? These guys who've come along tonight are great, they loved your set. Let's go prep you first on the kind of thing they'll ask you about.'

'I'm ready to do some _drinkin'_ ,' Vince said in Deacon's earshot as they walked down the corridor after Watty, who was steering Rayna towards a side room. He elbowed Deacon lightly. 'Keep your eyes on her face, man.'

Deacon flushed, clearing his throat and staring straight ahead. 'My eyes are over there. On the… wall.'

Vince snickered. 'You and me need to talk, my friend. You keepin' tight-lipped about this thing with Rayna is gettin' to be no fun.'

'We ain't talkin' about nothin' right now, Vinny.' Deacon shot a look at the back of Watty's head. 'I'd like to keep both my balls. And my job.'

'Now boys, there are gonna be a lot of industry people at this party tonight - I want you to circulate too,' Watty said, walking into the room and waiting for them to file through the door. He closed it behind them and perched on the edge of a stiff leather couch. 'Especially you, Deacon. The duets you're singin' together are getting a fair bit of attention - people are gonna want to talk to you.'

Deacon swallowed, looking at Rayna. He hated talking to industry people. He was no good at it - all his words fled him and he found it impossible to hide how uncomfortable he felt. He nodded though, hoping profusely that he wouldn't make her look bad. She was so good at the chit-chat; he found it fascinating to watch her. He knew it made her nervous too, but she hid it far better than he did.

'All good?' Watty asked, getting to his feet. He clapped his hands together and opened the door. 'Let's head on over there then, it's in the hotel bar. Your bus is waitin' outside.'

/

Vince would never understand girls.

Rayna had disappeared straight up to her room the minute they'd got to the hotel to change her outfit. She'd gone, as far as he could tell, from something precariously short that she couldn't possibly wear to schmooze with bigwigs, to something equally as short… in a different colour.

She was now chatting ten to the dozen with some guy in a suit who had a full-on moustache he kept twirling like a dickhead. Her replacement dress was black and swooshed when she moved, and shit if he couldn't see half the guys in the room staring at her legs.

'I fuckin' hate these things when suits tag along,' he griped at Kennedy, who was propped against the bar nursing a healthy measure of bourbon and trying to blend in with the mahogany.

'Dude, I get you on that. I feel like we're at the bank, not at an aftershow. I guess it's kinda part of the point, but still.'

'Think we can split yet?' Vince scanned the room for Watty and dropped onto a barstool when he didn't see him.

'Nah man, we only been here twenty minutes.' Kennedy lifted his hand to get the barman's attention for a refill. 'Know who's the only person in this whole joint feelin' more awkward than we are right now?'

'Claybourne.'

'Poor bastard hasn't stopped starin' at the exit.'

Vince snorted into his drink. It was partially true - Deacon, who had been cornered by a couple of middle-aged women in sensible skirts, looked like he'd shit his pants and didn't know how where the bathroom was. It wasn't, however, the exit he was staring at. Rayna was standing directly in his eyeline; she couldn't stop looking over at him either, and Vince shook his head, laughing to himself. Deacon had some explaining to do.

'Hey,' Kennedy said, leaning towards him conspiratorially, 'I heard on the quiet some of the guys are headin' up to Brett's room for an after-afterparty. No suits allowed. You in?'

Vince scoffed. 'I'm _always_ in.' He looked over at Deacon again. 'Let's take him another drink over. He looks like he needs one.'

The women, it turned out, were marketing bods from one of the local radio stations, and had asked Deacon about all the things he didn't want to be asked about, from his songwriting _process_ \- his least favourite word - to his relationship status. The one with the perm seemed to be trying to get into his pants, and pretty shamelessly at that, much to Vince's amusement.

'So you're single,' she said, taking a sensibly-shoed step closer to him, 'is that right?'

Deacon rubbed his two-day stubble and glanced at Rayna. Subtle. 'I ah - you haven't met my bandmates, have you? This is Vince, and Kennedy.'

Perm woman held out her hand. 'Pleasure,' she said, with no trace of it, 'Angela.'

'So you write the songs? You and the girl with the hair?' Angela's colleague, who had a severe nose and a shit-tonne of lipstick on, peered at Deacon over the top of her glasses.

'Rayna,' he said, motioning towards her, 'yeah. It's her band, but we write some of the songs together, me and her. Not all of them - she's brilliantly talented all in her own right.'

The woman looked Rayna up and down, deciding she approved. 'She's very marketable. Cute. Good legs, too. You're together?'

Deacon, who had never been good at hiding his feelings, but usually tried to anyway with the help of a scowl and a good dollop of brooding, was a shit liar.

'We're, she's, um Rayna is my - we're very close,' he said, and both Lipstick and Perm-gela lifted eyebrows and squinted at him skeptically. He shrugged, looking slightly closer to hysterical than any self-respecting pessimist should, and stared at Vince for help.

'He _wishes_ \- she's way out of his league,' Vince said, laughing a little too loudly. 'Have you met Rayna? She is a doll, you'll wish _you_ were datin' her too.'

He wove through the chattering people and feigned politeness when he grabbed Rayna's elbow and pulled her away from whoever she was talking to - fuck it, she looked bored anyway.

'Deacon wants you,' he said, 'as though that's ever _not_ the case.'

'What?'

'These women are comin' onto him and he needs you to rescue him. The whiff of menopause is makin' the poor fucker dizzy - you're the only one who can save him. Specifically, you in that sexy little dress. Big improvement on the last one by the way, much more conservative.'

'Vince, one of these days I'm gonna let Barb dry her underwear on the side of your bunk.'

He smirked at her. 'Oh you _know_ I'd enjoy that, Rayna.' He tugged her towards a salivating Deacon, who looked like he might dry-hump her right there, and presented her to the two women like a prized turnip at a county fair. 'Rayna, these ladies are… also here tonight. They do… somethin' real excitin'.'

His work done, he swigged his drink and settled in to watch her and Deacon squirm, one of his favourite pastimes, it was turning out. Rayna turned to the women, holding out her hand and greeting them with such sincerity he almost believed it himself - she was impressive, he had to say.

'I see you've met Rayna,' Watty said, joining them, and damn was he smooth with the bullshit too. He did some subtle thing where he touched Angela on the arm and she giggled horrifyingly and tossed a strand of perm over her shoulder.

'Rayna here was just telling us she and Deacon have been writing like crazy,' the other one gushed, and she did the weird arm-touch mind-control thing to Deacon - what the fuck _was_ that? - who looked constipated. 'Love songs are always the best kind, especially the duets. Nothing like spending every day cramped up on a tour bus together to get the creative juices flowing.'

Deacon gazed at Rayna like she was a cold beer on a bitch of a hot day, and she leaned into him sort of involuntarily, her dress doing the swooshing thing. It would have been subtler to light up a neon sign above their heads announcing to the whole room they were getting it on.

The look on Watty's face changed instantly. It was fleeting, sure, but surprisingly transparent for someone who was as good at networking as Vince was at sitting around in his underwear. He looked between the two of them, narrowed his eyes and aimed proverbial daggers at Deacon, who was too busy trying to keep it in his pants in public to notice.

Vince noticed, though, and slapped Deacon on the back to snap him out of it, giving another awkward-laugh. 'There's not a damn thing flows when Deac and _I_ try to write together, and our bunks are right next to each other - talk about cramped.'

'Huh?' Deacon mouthed, looking at him like he was crazy, and Vince rolled his eyes and pointed in some vague direction.

'Hey Deac,' he stage-announced, 'Jimmy's wavin' us over.' He tried his hand at one of those put-on smiles everyone seemed to be so good at, gave Deacon a discreet shove to get him moving, and waved over his shoulder. 'Good to meet you, ladies. Play us on your radio sometime.'

/

Drummers for the headliner, so it turned out, had far nicer hotel rooms than support acts.

Brett's was overflowing with people when Rayna walked in with Vince, who'd appeared in the doorway of the hotel bar when she'd thought her throat was about to dry up from all the talking.

'Where the hell did you get to?' she'd asked as he'd led her away to the elevators, the smell of whiskey stinging her nose. 'And why are you all wet?'

Vince had sighed somewhat dreamily. 'A groupie threw a drink on me. It was hot.' He looked at her. 'You had to be there.'

'How long have _you_ been there, Vince?' she'd chuckled.

'Since I left you talkin' to the radio luvvies.'

'So you _didn't_ take Deacon away to find Jimmy?'

'Oh no, I did - Jimmy's been at Brett's party all night. He's done this before, he knows what the score is - he took one look at the wake goin' on downstairs and scarpered.'

Jimmy, when Rayna spotted him as she waded through the sweaty melee, was having the time of his life, hugging an armchair and swigging Jack from the bottle. She scanned the packed room for Deacon, not bothering to be discreet about it.

'He's out on the balcony,' Vince said, appearing behind her and handing her a full cup of something unidentifiable. She chugged half of it, wanting to get away from being sober as a nun. 'I told him to wait out there and I'd bring you upstairs.'

Rayna eyed him, dodging one of the crew who winked at her as he stumbled past. 'You told you'd bring me up here?'

'I didn't want him comin' in the bar and havin' it look like he was stealing you away and takin' you upstairs - Watty woulda had him strung up.'

'What are you talkin' about?' she asked, feeling like getting through the throng of people and out to the balcony was something akin to wading through quicksand.

Vince snorted. 'You're rumbled, sugar. Watty is so onto you.'

Rayna drained her cup and turned to Vince with a smirk and an innocent blink of her lashes. 'I don't know what you're talkin' about, Vince.'

She sashayed away, throwing him a grin over her shoulder and squeezing out onto the balcony. Deacon was in the midst of an animated conversation with someone she recognised but couldn't quite place, a beer in one hand. When he saw her his face lit up, and he beckoned her over eagerly.

'Hey,' she said, and he put an arm around her, a little too drunk to remind himself not to.

'Hey Ray,' he said happily, and motioned to the person he was talking to. 'You know… er, this guy.'

'Bobby,' the guy said, nodding at her in greeting. 'You're real good. I was just tellin' Deac here I been lovin' your stuff you been doin' together, it's shit hot.'

'Well thanks, Bobby, I'm glad you think so.'

'I'm sorry baby,' Deacon said into her ear, 'I know we were gonna go spend some time alone - Vince dragged me up here, I couldn't get out of it.'

Rayna shook her head. 'This party is exactly what I feel like - after all that talkin' tonight I need some _fun_. Let's stay.'

He laughed. 'It is a half decent party,' he said, just as someone knocked over a lamp inside and it smashed to a chorus of drunken celebration. 'Hey you want a beer?' He plucked one from a bathtub full of ice behind him and popped the cap for her.

She took it gratefully, peering around Deacon. 'Why is there a tub on the balcony?'

'I dunno, but I sure hope there isn't a big hole in the bathroom.'

Brett, smoking a cigar nearby and leaning precariously far over the edge of the balcony, waved a hand at him. 'Nah, man, I ain't here for the room charges.' He clapped the guy next to him on the back, a little too hard. 'Billy here _liberated_ it from his room.' At Deacon's raised eyebrow he barked out a laugh.

'We got a bet goin' on,' Billy said. 'Who can steal the best shit from the hotels.'

Rayna looked closer at the tub. It was a jacuzzi, she noticed, or at least it used to be.

'This is pretty up there, no?' Deacon asked.

'What the tub? Nah man, that's small-fry.' Billy tossed his empty into the ice. 'I lifted a ten grand oil painting in Chicago. I'm winnin' the bet so far thanks to that beauty.'

Brett turned his gaze to Rayna, smiling indulgently at her and taking in Deacon's unintentionally - maybe - possessive hold on her. 'I got my sights on a way better beauty to steal,' he said, smirking over the rim of his beer bottle before he drank from it.

She thought Deacon might let go of her, their agreed secrecy waning somewhat, but his arm tightened around her instead.

'You might be better goin' after a nice watercolour,' he said, throwing in a stiff smile. He gave Brett a nod, moved his hand to Rayna's waist and guided her inside the room. 'Prick,' he muttered under his breath.

Rayna laughed, enjoying his jealousy immensely. 'A nice _watercolour_?' Deacon sniggered, and she wished there weren't a dozen people in the bathroom so she could drag him in there and have her way with him. 'Hey, who's that girl Kennedy's makin' out with?'

Deacon followed her eyes to the couch in front of the double bed. 'I'll be damned if I know. Damned if he does either - he's been drinkin' dirty shots since we walked in here.'

'Dirty shots?'

He looked at Rayna and smiled; she knew he sometimes forgot how little she'd been exposed to these things. This tour was her first taste of real freedom, of actually feeling like she was being treated as an adult, and she was finding out there was a lot she didn't know about.

'They're a mixture of as many different liquors as you can fit in a shot glass. These guys ain't really been stickin' to shot glasses though, they been fillin' up regular cups.' He waggled his eyebrows at her. 'Nasty stuff. Gonna be some brutal heads tomorrow.'

Rayna pulled a face - that did not sound like something she wanted to try. Her belly fluttered looking up at Deacon though; he was three years older than her, and far more experienced in life, in some dark ways, she knew. He never made her feel like she was naive, though, or looked down upon her for the things she was clueless about. She could tell him anything, show him any vulnerability, and she knew it was nowhere in him to judge her. Her trust in him was implicit; it made her want to learn things from him.

'Hey,' she said, 'let's go sit.' She tugged him towards the only bit of space, the floor between the balcony doors and the bed - as far away from Kennedy's antics as they could get. Deacon dropped beside her, settling in and twisting to face her.

'Vince reckons Watty knows about us,' he said. 'I'm not sure if he's right about that, but damn. I think I'm more scared of Watty than I am of your Daddy.'

Rayna snorted. 'Oh no you should be more afraid of Daddy, believe me.' She drained her beer, feeling pleasantly lightheaded. 'If he knew what was going on with you and me, he'd be kickin' down that door right now and hidin' your body in that bathtub.'

Deacon shook his head, amused. 'I'm glad you think it's funny, baby. When he chops off my hands I ain't gonna be able to play guitar for you no more.' His eyes flashed suggestively at her. 'Or do nothin' else with 'em.'

'Oh,' she drawled, 'your hands wouldn't be the only things he chopped off.' She laughed at his gulp. 'Maybe we should run off somewhere and change our names - how'd you feel about Mexico? He'd never find us there.'

'I feel we should pack our bags.'

'Pack our bags? Where we goin'?' Vince plopped unceremoniously down in front of them and crossed his bony long legs. His skinny jeans looked vastly uncomfortable, Rayna thought, and she stretched her own legs, bare and cool, out in front of her in a subconscious nod to freedom.

'Anywhere we want,' Deacon replied, and Rayna loved how happy he sounded. He took the two cups Vince held out and passed one to Rayna: whiskey, neat, she surmised when she sipped it.

'So,' Vince said, lifting up his butt to reach into his back pocket, 'I got a little of the good stuff for us.' He plucked a roll up from his pocket and held it aloft in triumph.

Rayna peered at it. 'Is that pot?'

Vince nodded. 'Sure is, doll. What's an after-afterparty without a sneaky joint, huh?'

Rayna glanced nervously at Deacon, who glanced at Vince. 'Buddy, I ain't sure you smokin' that around Rayna is the cutest thing you ever done.'

'I ain't smokin' it _around_ her.' He flicked open a novelty naked lady lighter, took a puff and blew it out slowly. 'I'm smokin' it _with_ her.'

He held out the joint and Rayna eyed it, dubious but curious all the same. She looked at Deacon. 'What's it like?'

He frowned at Vince before he looked at her. 'It's… pretty great, you feel kinda more peaceful or somethin', but you don't have to smoke that, Ray. Vince is an idiot, as ever.'

'Yeah,' Vince said, stretching the word out, 'but I'm an idiot with pot.' He rolled his eyes when Deacon didn't drop his frown. 'Oh come _on,_ party pooper, it's harmless. That whiskey you're drinkin' can do far worse shit and you know it.'

He held the roll up out again and Rayna shrugged. 'When in Rome.'

'Seriously, Ray, you don't have to-'

'I know - I kinda wanna try it,' she said, crossing her legs and holding the paper between her fingers. 'Tandy told me she smoked it in her dorm once, and I've always wanted to see what the fuss was about.' She lifted it to her lips, pausing before she closed them around it. 'And besides, I can't be outdone by _Tandy_. She wears loafers.'

Deacon chuckled, and she breathed in. The taste was pretty rancid, but she held it in as long as she could, until the urge to cough overtook her and she expelled the smoke somewhat ungracefully. She pulled a face, passing it to Deacon, who took a drag with ease; she couldn't help thinking how _sexy_ he looked.

'You ever smoked a regular cigarette before, Rayna?' Vince asked. It wasn't patronising - Vince never was. He was a live-and-let-live kind of guy, something Rayna liked a lot about him. He saw it as his personal mission to corrupt her, so he'd told her before they'd set out on the tour, and strangely she found the notion endearing.

'Just the once,' she said. 'I stole a pack of Marlboros from Daddy's secretary and hid behind the Science building at school. I kinda hated it, everythin' tasted bad for the rest of the day. This, though…' She dropped her head back and rested it on the edge of the bed, closing her eyes and feeling her limbs relax.

'Pretty sweet, huh?'

Her next drag was the one that really hit her; she let her arms drop to her sides, sighing deeply, everything around her seeming to slow and quieten, though she felt completely lucid. 'Hmm,' she hummed, sliding down a little further. 'That _is_ good stuff.'

'You okay Ray?' Deacon asked, and she opened her eyes to see his face, smiling.

'Never better.'

/

Rayna couldn't have taken a stab at what time it was, but she found herself, at some point, lying on her back, Deacon next to her, with the carpet scratchy where it touched her skin. The night air was warm and thick, floating in through the open doors, but when she turned to look through the glass the balcony was empty, other than a couple of people who looked like they were asleep in the sun chairs.

The room, come to think of it, had cleared considerably too; she must have been too deep in conversation to have noticed people leaving. She propped herself up on her elbows.

'Hey,' she said, suddenly confused, 'where'd Vince go?'

'I dunno,' Deacon answered from the floor, unconcerned, 'maybe he left.'

She scanned the room; a few people were sleeping on the bed, on top of the covers fully clothed. Jimmy was passed out in the same armchair he'd been in when she'd got to the party, looking decidedly rough. She couldn't see Kennedy anywhere, and figured he must have made the most of an absent Jimmy and taken the unknown girl back to his room.

'Oh,' she said, 'I found him.' She pointed towards the foot of the bed - Vince was laid on his stomach, each of his hands inserted into one of those cheap quality hotel slippers. Rayna stared at him for a few seconds and dropped back down. 'He's fine.'

Deacon rolled onto his side and looked at her wordlessly. She did the same, studying his face, and saw a trace of sadness there.

'What's wrong, babe?'

He sighed, plucking at an imaginary loose thread in the carpet. 'My sister called today. She got hold of the number for the hotel and they put her through to my room.'

He rarely talked about his family, and when he did it was usually his sister having done something to goad him into leaving Nashville to go back to Natchez. Rayna lifted an eyebrow and waited for him to go on.

'She wanted to tell me she's got a new boyfriend, he's some kinda big shot and she's movin' to Atlanta with him.' He shook his head. 'It won't last. It never does with Beverly. She picks the biggest losers, the real redneck type.'

Rayna took his hand, weaving her fingers through his. 'It might do her good to get out of Natchez for a while, at least.'

'Yeah. I just wish she'd leave and never look back, it ain't good for her there.' He looked into her eyes. 'God, Ray, I'm so grateful for you. You save me, you know that? I could be like Beverly, but I ain't - I got you to live for.'

She squeezed his hand, feeling her heart contract, unable to tear her eyes away from his beautiful face. 'I feel exactly the same way,' she whispered.

He looked at her with such love she could barely breathe, stroking her cheek softly. ' _Damn_ I wanna kiss you so bad,' he murmured, biting his bottom lip as though to stop himself.

Rayna felt herself flood with butterflies. She glanced around one more time, and threw all caution to the wind, satisfied no one was awake or sober enough to care anyway. 'So kiss me,' she told him.

Deacon shifted closer, on her in a heartbeat, no convincing needed. She kissed him back with all the lust she'd been holding in all night - every time she'd looked across at him in the bar downstairs, talking to corporate people even though she knew he hated it, she'd wanted him; every moment of the party upstairs, she'd wanted him. It was so intense in its release that she was amazed they'd managed to last as long as they had.

'Baby,' he rasped, pulling his lips from hers and moving them to her neck. The word thrilled her every time he said it, but never more so than when he said it like _that_ , while he sucked on her skin and moved his hand up her leg.

It escalated quickly; the image of him touching her that morning had been all she could think about the whole day, in vivid detail, and she wanted his hands on her again so badly she could hardly stand it. He seemed to sense her need and when he moved back to her mouth, his hand went immediately to her breast. She bit his lip, and he played with her nipple through her dress, but he read her next thought too and slid his hand inside the material. It was low cut, easy for him to get into, the cups built in so she was braless, and he delighted at the discovery.

'Deacon,' she said hazily into his ear, 'I love that.'

He worked his thumb faster over her nipple in response and Rayna moved the lower half of her body closer to him, lifting her leg over his; she nipped at his bottom lip, pulling back when he tried to kiss her, smiling when he chased her lips in frustration. She resisted again, well aware it was driving him crazy, and before she could anticipate it he rolled her in one swift movement onto her back and crushed his lips against hers, sucking on her tongue.

She inhaled shakily, feeling for the first time his full weight on top of her. Her leg was still wrapped around his hip and she tensed it, her body on fire with the heat of them.

And then he shifted, and she felt him, hard and unmistakable between her legs.

'Shit,' he hissed, pulling back quickly and lifting his body off her. 'I'm sorry Ray, shit. I didn't mean to-' He trailed off, steadying a hand on the floor beside her to hold himself at a respectable distance.

She caught her breath, looking up at him, her head spinning. It took her a moment to realise what he was apologising for.

'Don't be sorry,' she said in a low voice, and she hooked her leg over his and pulled him back down.

He was stunned for a second, his body rigid and his breathing fast, and Rayna moved her other leg out from underneath him and lifted her knees, making her intent very clear. His hips rested squarely between hers, and she felt his hardness fully against her; even through his jeans she could tell just how turned on he was.

He dropped his face into her neck, his heart beating fast against her chest. And then gently, and instinctively, she could tell, he ground his hips ever so slightly into her. She gasped, and he did too, and then his mouth was back on hers and she was digging her fingers into his hair and kissing him hard.

In the back of her mind she was aware they were in a room with other people, people who could wake up any moment and see what they were doing. There was something _hot_ about it, and it only turned her on more. His hand found its way back into her dress and when she moved her own hips into him he let go of any hesitation; he rubbed against her over and over.

She was starting to feel something building, something she had no control over whatsoever, all sense of where she was racing from her mind, when a bottle rolled off a chair across the room and clattered across the bit of floor that was wooden.

' _Dude_ ,' someone muttered in displeasure at being woken. The guy got up from the couch and stumbled towards the bathroom, knocking into a few things on his way.

Rayna, frozen underneath Deacon, covered her mouth and stifled a laugh, and felt him do the same, his body shuddering. He rested his forehead on hers, grinning at her, and kissed her gently. 'I think that might be our cue to get out of here.'

'I think it might just be,' she agreed, and he lifted himself off her, getting to his feet and helping her up. He pulled her close, holding her around the waist and kissing her once more.

'I'll walk you to your room,' he said, and she nodded happily, knowing he would be chivalrous and say goodnight at her door, and knowing full well she'd lay in her bed replaying what just happened until dawn broke.

#

There were a lot of sore heads the next morning. Partying happened and happened hard on the road, but some nights seemed to be kickers, and judging by the lack of people in the hotel dining room at breakfast, Deacon figured last night had been one of them.

His own head felt full of Rayna, so much so that he hardly felt the twinge of a hangover. She turned up a characteristic five minutes before breakfast ended, and he waved at her from the table he was at with Kennedy and Vince.

'Where is everybody?' she asked, sitting down opposite him and taking the cup of coffee he poured and pushed towards her.

'Sleepin' it off, I think. Good mornin',' Deacon said, his voice casual but his smile telling her he'd loved every minute they'd spent together last night. She echoed his sentiment right back, sipping her coffee and holding his gaze a beat longer than she should.

'Today's gonna be fun,' she said with a tilt of her eyebrows, and Kennedy groaned. She looked at him, amused. 'Hey where'd you get to last night?'

'I ain't even sure, Rayna, but I woke up this mornin' in a compromisin' situation.'

She snorted into her cup and shook her head, and Deacon felt her foot rub against his under the table.

'Well hey,' Kennedy said suddenly, brightening, 'looks like _you_ mighta been gettin' a little compromised too.' He nodded his head at Rayna's neck. 'Got yourself a pretty decent lookin' hickie there.'

Deacon looked down at her skin and sure enough, right there half-hidden by the collar of her shirt was a purple mark - his handiwork, however unintentional. They _had_ gotten a little carried away...

Rayna followed his eyes and her hand flew to where they rested. 'That is not a hickie,' she said, pulling up her collar, but her cheeks were pink and she couldn't quite get the smile off her face.

/

Soundcheck was a hot mess. Maybe it was down to a mass hangover, maybe the incessant rain outside that was putting everybody in a pissy mood, Deacon didn't know, but he waited around with Rayna and the band as the schedule fell further and further behind.

'Anybody seen Billy?' he heard Randy's manager yell across the stage. There was a collective mumbling that apparently didn't please him and he cursed, the sound echoing in the space, and stomped down the stairs.

'Billy the guy who stole the bathtub?' Rayna asked, popping gum and leaning back in one of the audience chairs next to Deacon. 'One of Randy's guitar players?'

'He was in a bad way last I saw him,' Jimmy said, nodding, 'although I haven't got a fuckin' clue when that was - last night at some point. He was on somethin' for sure, sweatin' like a pig.'

One of the roadie girls was laid out on the seats in front of them - Annie, who had a tattoo sleeve covering one of her arms and a heap of concert wristbands on the other that she never took off. Everyone liked Annie - even _Barb_ liked Annie. 'He does this,' she said, sitting up just far enough to crane her head towards them. 'Billy, he fucks off whenever he's burned it a bit too hard. Randy's fired him three times, but he always come back. He's like a drunk boomerang.'

Deacon stretched and glanced at his watch. 'I gotta go get some air.' He looked at Rayna, who was leaning forward, deep in conversation with Annie.

'I'm comin' with,' Vince said, standing up.

It was warm outside, the smell of rain earthy and sweet. They stood under an awning, leaning against the wall of the theatre, styrofoam cups of thick coffee from the vending machine in the foyer in their hands.

'I wanna be on tour all the time,' Deacon said. 'Even on a day like today, everyone else in a bad mood, nothin' goin' right - I still love this, man.'

Vince nodded, looking out at the trucks in the parking lot. 'Me too. This is a good life.' He turned towards Deacon. 'But then it's no wonder _you're_ in a good mood today.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean last fuckin' night, Claybourne - I've been waitin' all mornin' to pin you down about it. You lucky fuckin' bastard.'

'What the hell you talkin' about, Vinny?' Deacon asked, knowing full well what kind of night he'd had but at a loss as to how Vince could possibly know.

'You and Rayna, gettin' all hot and heavy while you thought everybody was sleepin'.' He pumped his hips, miming their actions, and laughed when Deacon's mouth dropped open. 'Oh I saw you, you ain't nearly as discreet as you think, buddy.' He gave a low whistle. 'That was _intense_ \- I almost felt wrong witnessin' it.'

'How _did_ you witness it? You were passed out cold, Rayna damn well checked.'

'Nah, I was just dozin'. I opened my eyes at one point and thought I was gonna have to toss a condom your way.'

Deacon batted him lightly, shaking his head, but he couldn't help his grin. 'I know we ain't talked about it - deliberately, 'cause I know you can't keep secrets, Jameson - but it's _good_ , man, with me an' Rayna. It's the best thing I ever felt in my whole life.'

'So it's on, for real? Y'all are together, _together_ together?'

Deacon laughed. 'Yeah, we're _together_ together.'

Vince propped his foot up on the wall and slapped his thigh. 'Well it's about damn time. And look at you - I ain't exactly seen you happy with your lot in life before, Deac, and here you are can't stop smilin'.'

The rain cranked up a notch, bouncing off the tarmac and splashing their boots. Deacon played the word over, tasted it: happy. He was happy.

'So have you slept with her yet?'

'Vinny, it hasn't even been two weeks.'

Vince eyed him. 'It doesn't even usually take you two _hours_ to get into a girl's pants.' He held up his hands before Deacon could object. 'I know, I know - it's Rayna, it's different. Whatever.'

They gulped their coffees, some poor guys racing out into the downpour to unload equipment from one of the trucks. A little thunder rumbled in the distance, shrieks of kids caught out in the rain carrying on the wind.

'It is different. I ain't never cared like this about a girl - I never wanted so bad to get it right. I wanna wait 'til she's ready.'

Vince pulled a face. 'We gonna start talkin' about our periods next?'

'You wanted to know,' Deacon laughed. 'Be careful what you wish for.'

'Fine, fine, so you're gonna wait 'til your dick all but drops off before you have sex with her, you do what you gotta do. But tell me this - what base have you got to? Judging by what I saw last night I'm gonna say… second.' He scrutinised Deacon, who pressed his lips together and rolled his eyes in good humour. 'Am I right?'

'You're a perve is what you are.'

'Second base with Rayna Jaymes and her delightful breasts - not bad, dude. Not bad.'

'You Deacon Claybourne?' a man in a Merle Haggard t-shirt asked, sticking his head around the door.

'That's me. Can I help you?'

'I hope so. Randy's manager sent me lookin' for you - Billy still hasn't turned up and he needs a guitar player. Heard you were pretty decent. How fast can you learn Randy's songs?'

/

The things Deacon Claybourne _couldn't_ do with a guitar weren't worth doing, Rayna figured. She often found herself mesmerised by his talent, equally whether he was on stage next to her or on the bus in his oldest jeans, noodling around.

On stage rehearsing with Randy Travis' band was a new level of awe. She couldn't take her eyes off him up there, and from her spot in the auditorium she felt like a groupie. She leaned forward in her seat, well aware she had a dreamy look on her face, more proud than she'd ever felt of anyone. They had seven songs to run through for soundcheck and he had picked them straight up, impressing everyone in the band.

'They better not poach him,' Kennedy said, tapping his foot along with the song Randy was belting out.

Rayna grinned, eyes still fixed on Deacon. 'Isn't he great up there with them? I wouldn't blame them if they _did_ try to poach him.' She pursed her lips. 'I won't let 'em, though.'

'Don't think you'd have to worry about him goin' anywhere,' Vince said, more to Rayna than to the group. 'He wouldn't leave your side if freakin' Elvis came back to life and begged him to hop on his resurrection tour.'

'Oh I'd _make_ him do _that_ ,' Rayna said, winking at Vince.

The song finished; Deacon caught her eye and smiled at her so wide she thought he might crack his jaw, and she felt her chest expand. It seemed Billy had never missed an actual show, so he was expected back in time for the evening with his tail between his legs, though no one looked too certain. Still, to Rayna, seeing Deacon step in and be such a pro at soundcheck, standing behind a country legend and completely holding his own, was worth seeing him play a hundred shows.

They managed to squeeze in a hurried two-song rehearsal of their own, Rayna bounding towards Deacon and throwing her arms around him when they got on the stage. There wasn't a lot of time for chat, Randy's manager tapping his watch at everyone in a hundred mile radius, but she whispered into his ear before she pulled away, 'I'm so proud of you, Deacon. I'm so proud my whole heart could burst.'

He didn't stop smiling the entire way through their run-through, or the rest of the afternoon while Randy's band leader ran him through the remainder of Randy's two-hour set, 'just in case'. He was still smiling at dinner, and when they climbed the steps to the stage that night for their slot, and all the way through every song.

When Billy stumbled into the wings ten minutes before curtain-up on the headline show and asked where his guitar was, and Randy's manager told Deacon thanks for his good work, that they were sorted now - still he smiled.

'Babe, I'm so sorry,' Rayna told him, pulling to him to the side as the audience chanted for Randy to get on stage, feeling like she might cry for how close he'd come to being part of such an experience.

But Deacon shook his head, not a trace of disappointment on his face. 'It's okay,' he said, 'I'm all good.' The curtain lifted, and roars of excitement filled their ears. He leaned in close to Rayna, his skin warm against her cheek. 'No one's ever told me they're proud of me before. I never known what it feels like.' He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes watery and full of emotion. 'It feels better than playin' any headline show ever could, Ray.'

/

They'd left the venue a handful of minutes after the show was finished, piling onto the bus in high spirits to drive through the night, bound for Santa Fe. An impromptu jamming session had petered out around 2am and Rayna had happily yawned her way to bed, but sleep was surprisingly not materialising.

The lights outside passed by in strips; hypnotic, though not enough so to make her drift off. She eventually gave up with a sigh and crept out of her room, standing for a minute or two in the belly of the quiet bus. Deacon's curtain was pulled across and she thought briefly about pulling it back and daring to climb into his bunk, but he'd had a long day filling in for Billy and she didn't want to wake him.

She tiptoed instead to the kitchen at the front of the bus, pulling a tub of cocoa powder out of a cupboard and boiling up some hot water. She filled two mugs, inhaling the sweet steam, and threw a few marshmallows in for good measure.

Barb's partition was drawn and Rayna popped her head around the edge of it, knowing she would have heard the gentle clattering in the kitchen right behind her. 'You want a hot chocolate, Barb?'

'You bet I do, kid.' She took the mug and gave Rayna a sideways glance when she didn't move to leave. 'You wanna ride up front for a while?'

Rayna smiled gratefully, sitting down on the top step and resting her mug on her knees.

'Can't sleep, kiddo?

'No. I don't know why though - I just keep closin' my eyes and nothin' happens.'

'Too much on your mind? Barb took a noisy swallow of her drink and Rayna marvelled at her asbestos-mouth; the liquid was scalding hot but she didn't so much as flinch.

'Not really. Life is amazing, I'm not worried about a single thing, I've never felt like that before.' She thought for a second. 'I mean other than not wantin' to finish this tour, anyway - I wanna stay on this bus forever.'

Barb chuckled. 'Sugar, as someone who _has_ been on this bus forever, take it from me - you'll be glad to have your feet on dry land for a while.'

Rayna sighed wistfully, unable to imagine how it would be possible to want such a thing when this life was so exactly what she'd always wished for. Except it was _better_ than she'd wished for. 'I can't imagine you not drivin', Barb.'

'Oh, I can't either. II got wheels instead of feet by this point.' She looked at Rayna knowingly. 'You're gonna be on a whole lotta tours, Rayna. I seen enough musicians head out on the road to know the good ones when I see 'em. This kinda life is yours for the takin', I'll tell you no lie there.'

Rayna beamed, happiness zipping through her. She waggled her sock-covered toes. They fell into a companionable silence for a couple of minutes, and she looked out of the front window; the roads were mostly empty at this time of night, long, straight stretches, dark other than the bus headlights. It made her eyes feel heavy.

'So if it ain't worryin' that's got you up all night, I bet I got a good guess in me as to what it is.'

'Yeah?'

Barb smiled, her eyes on the road. 'I'm gonna take a wild stab in the dark and say he's got a guitar and a damn cute set of dimples.'

Rayna's mouth fell open. She closed it quickly, sure Barb would be able to hear whatever she thought and trying not to think anything just in case. 'What do you- I don't know what you're talkin' about.'

'Oh you don't? Well I must be wrong then.' Barb drained her cocoa and wedged the mug between her knees. 'Oh dang it, would you do me a favour? Will you remind me to make an appointment to see my eye doctor when we get back to Nashville?'

Rayna frowned, confused - but relieved - at the sudden change of subject. 'Um, sure, I'll remind you. Why do you need to see the eye doctor?'

'Well, see, mine must be playin' tricks on me, 'cause I coulda sworn I saw Deacon Claybourne and his dimples sneaking outta your room the other night.' Barb tapped her chin, frowning. 'Come to think of it, a few nights before that too.'

She swivelled her head slowly to look at Rayna, who knew she had guilt written all over her face. 'I don't know what you mean,' she said, cursing herself for not being able to lie, and dipping her face into her drink in a useless attempt to hide her blush.

'Like I say, my eyesight is just terrible these days.' Barb leaned back a little further in her chair, clearly having fun, and deliberately kept her eyes straight ahead when she added, 'Must've been Vince I saw'.

'It was _not_ Vince!' Rayna gasped, so horrified she missed Barb's chuckle. 'I'd throw Vince right out the window if he ever dared sneak into my room.'

Barb wheezed with laughter, her mug dangerously close to being squished, and Rayna realised she'd given herself away and joined in, somewhat ruefully. She shouldn't have been surprised - Barb, as she knew, saw everything.

'So Deacon,' Barb said after a moment, her tone considerably more serious.'That somethin' that's happened while you been out on the road?'

Rayna nodded shyly. 'A couple of weeks ago.'

'I called it from the minute I met you both, clear as day. I was surprised as all hell when Watty said you _weren't_ together.' She tapped the wheel. 'Does he know?' Rayna shook her head. 'Maybe not officially. He knows though, kid - might not wanna admit it to himself but he knows.'

'What do you mean, why wouldn't he want to admit it?'

Barb sighed, and Rayna saw a shadow of something wash momentarily over her face. 'It's a rare thing, you know, when two people are pulled together the way you and Deacon are. It's a force of nature, mark my words - ain't nothin' that can stop that kinda love. Got a mind of its own.' She shook her head slowly back and forth. 'You don't forget what that looks like. You don't ever forget.'

'Hey Barb? Why hasn't Watty ever been married?'

There was a long silence, and Rayna shifted on her step, crossing her feet at the ankles.

'You might just understand that one day, sweetheart.' Barb looked at her for a moment, her expression unfathomable. She replaced it with a stern look. 'I hope Deacon is bein' a gentleman.'

Rayna flushed. 'He's nothin' but, I swear.'

'He should know I got a mean left hook and the key to the beer fridge. I ain't afraid to use one and withhold the other.'

'Oh he's so wonderful Barb.' She couldn't help herself; it was so good to be able to talk about it. Keeping her relationship with Deacon a secret was harder than she'd thought it would be - she wanted to tell everyone, strangers on the street included, how she felt about him. 'No boy's ever treated me the way Deacon does. He's so thoughtful, and so considerate of me. And the _songs_ we've been writin', oh you wouldn't believe how easy it is - we can write one in ten minutes.'

'Well now, that look on your face is exactly what scares me,' Barb said, but her voice was soft; as soft as Barb ever got, anyway. 'Ten minutes, huh?'

'Ten minutes.' Rayna sighed deeply. 'He looks at me and he just knows what I'm thinkin'. And I know too - I just know. It's like magic.'

'Like magic,' Barb repeated, not a question, not a statement either. It was as though she was feeling the words out, not sure whether to be reverent or cautious of them. 'No wonder you can't sleep.'

#

It was a sticky-hot night in New Mexico, the kind where your clothes clung to you no matter how few of them you wore. Vince had opted, to everyone's horror, for not many at all, favouring a pair of shorts that were an inch on the side of indecency that even Deacon didn't know he owned, and no one had let it go unnoticed.

'These are my lady-pullin' shorts,' he'd been saying since they'd ditched their stage outfits in their rooms and escaped down to the outdoor hotel pool.

Thankfully the only illumination was from a couple of underwater lights and a sliver of moon, so the undersides of Vince's buttcheeks weren't as traumatic as they could have been.

'You were born in the wrong country, Vinny,' Deacon told him, 'I heard in Brazil all they wear are banana hammocks.'

'And look how easy those Brazilian fellas get the women, Deac - I'm tellin' you, y'all are doin' it wrong.'

He slapped his own ass and waggled it in Rayna's direction and she snorted with laughter, rolling to the other side of her sunlounger.

It was just her and the guys, and a few of the roadies who'd opted to sit out the party in the bar in favour of the marginally cooler air outside. Some of them had brought their guitars out and the sound of gentle strumming floated on the slight breeze, the cicadas joining in. Rayna thought it was the most soothing sound she'd ever heard - throw in the pool lapping gently at itself and she was in her element.

'Remember our tree in that park?' Deacon said quietly, rolling onto his side on his sunlounger and facing her. She nodded. 'What do you say we trade up? This is pretty perfect right here, ain't it?'

'I say get yourself a banana hammock and you got a deal.'

The beer bottle in Rayna's hand was sweating beads of condensation, and she pressed it to her pink cheeks in a vain attempt to cool herself down. Deacon sat up and plucked at his guitar, no particular song, just a melody for a melody's sake.

'I'm glad we're skippin' the party tonight,' he said, humming a little here and there. 'I feel like we needed a quiet one.'

'Can't keep up, huh Gramps?' Rayna teased. 'I'll be honest, I was thinkin' about my pyjamas the minute we came off stage.'

He flashed her a look. ' _I_ was thinkin' about your pyjamas the minute we got off stage, too.' He waggled his eyebrows at her and she moved the bottle to her chest, letting it drip and roll down her cleavage.

'Hey Rayna,' Vince said, teetering on the edge of the pool, 'how 'bout a little skinny dippin'?' He leaned down and scooped up some pool water and flicked a few drops at her. 'It's dark, no one can really see anyway.'

She laughed, grateful for the brief cooling of her heated skin, but gave him a customary eye-roll anyway. 'You got more chance of gettin' Barb to skinny dip with you.'

He flung a pout and a little more water at her and she jumped to her feet in mock outrage. She took a couple of steps towards him and shrugged her shoulders, reaching for the hem of her white tank top. 'Well I'm already halfway there anyway,' she said, pointing at the transparent specks where the cotton was wet, 'might as well.'

Vince's eyes widened in surprise, and he suddenly looked slightly terrified.

'Well what are you waitin' for, Vince? Take that gross wife beater off. Shorts too.' She tapped her foot impatiently, fingers still clutching her shirt, and Vince looked over her shoulder at Deacon, silently asking if he'd get a left-hook if he _actually_ got his girl to strip off. Deacon, knowing exactly what Rayna was thinking, held up his hands and laughed.

'Get 'em off Vinny!' he called.

Vince shrugged, put down his beer and whipped off his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. 'You asked for it. I been workin' out.' He turned away from Rayna, bent over, and stripper-style, pulled down his shorts.

Rayna laughed, covering her eyes against the sight of his bare ass, and a chorus of wolf-whistles came from the boys. Vince looked at Rayna over his shoulder and spun around, lifting both arms in the air and lassoing his shorts above his head.

'Oh my _eyes_! Vince!' she squealed, running away from him and laughing so hard she thought she might bust a rib.

'Dude hang on, let me go get my glasses on, I can't see anythin' down there,' Kennedy called, and Vince tossed his shorts, getting him right in the face.

'Don't go feelin' insecure about yourselves boys - not everyone can be this blessed.'

Rayna snorted, and involuntarily her brain threw her an image of Deacon on top of her in Brett's hotel room, rubbing himself against her. He _certainly_ had nothing to feel insecure about. She felt her temperature rocket up another notch and the pool, even about to have a naked Vince in it, had never looked so appealing.

'Alright Rayna - your turn.' Vince gestured at her clothes, standing precariously close to the edge - right where she wanted him.

'You got me,' she said, 'tit for tat.' She sighed in resignation, stepping back across the wet floor towards him and lifting her shirt. The stifling air and the heady beer made her think _fuck it_ , and she peeled it off, throwing it behind her onto the sunlounger and briefly catching Deacon's eyes popping out of his head - he wasn't expecting _that_. Neither was she.

She smirked at Vince trying to look anywhere but at her bra, and his shock gave her the distraction she was after; she leaned towards him, gave him a good shove with all her might, and he fell with a resounding splash into the pool.

'Awh man,' he yelled, resurfacing and shaking his dripping hair out of his eyes. Rayna doubled over, bracing her hands on her knees in mirth. He looked so comical, like a wet puppy, and she knelt down and handed him his beer, careful to stay out of his grasp.

'Enjoy, Vince,' she told him, turning to go back to Deacon, who was laughing heartily, thoroughly enjoying himself.

She missed the change in his expression and didn't hear anyone behind her until it was too late; wet hands grabbed her around the waist and lifted her towards to the pool, and before she could wriggle free, Vince had jumped back in, taking her with him.

'You bastard!' she shrieked, coming up for air and pushing her hair off her face, blowing water out of her mouth. 'You are in so much trouble Vince!'

'Tit for tat, Rayna,' he said with a wink, ducking under the water when she swiped for him.

'Oh _damn_ this water feels good,' she groaned despite herself, floating on her back and circling her arms slowly. 'I am never gettin' outta here.'

Vince paddled himself next to her and very deliberately pushed himself up to float on his back too, exposing way too much of himself and cracking up at her horrified reaction.

'Is it cold?' Deacon asked, getting up and sitting on the edge. At their encouragement he rolled up his jeans and dipped his feet in. 'Oh my God, that is amazin'.'

Rayna, turning her back to Deacon, gave Vince a conspiratorial grin and swam to the side. She pulled herself up a little, resting her arms on the edge, making sure he could see just enough of her cleavage to be preoccupied. 'Isn't it perfect? Hey, those jeans look hot, Deacon. Why don't you take 'em off?' She gave him a flirty look and he chuckled nervously, shaking his head.

'Oh no, you ain't gettin' me in there while Vince's got his goods out. The only thing I'm dippin' in here is my feet.'

'You sure?' she asked, tipping her head to the side and lowering herself back in up to her shoulders. When he nodded, she pushed away from the side a little, smiling at him. 'Well if you're _sure_ …' She swung her arms, splashing him from head to toe, Vince joining in next to her.

'You traitors!' Deacon bellowed, standing up and dripping all over the floor. 'You're in for it.'

To Rayna's utmost delight he dropped his soaked jeans and tossed off his t-shirt, running at the pool in only his boxers and cannon-balling in, covering the both of them with a tirade of water. He emerged laughing and lunged for Rayna, grabbing her around the waist and shaking his hair at her so the drips flew everywhere.

'Truce,' she yelped, 'truce!'

He let go of her, treading water and staying close, a mischievous look in his eye.

'You got me all wet,' he murmured, and Rayna didn't know what came over her but she held his gaze and swam closer to him, sank under the water and emerged with her shorts in her hand. When she launched them over his head towards the loungers, she could have sworn she heard him let out a low growl.

'Well you two are just not abiding by the rules of skinny dippin',' Vince chided, watching the direction Rayna's shorts had taken. He made like a duck and stuck his face in the water, ass up in the air to wave his buttcheeks at them, making his point loud and clear.

Rayna looked at Deacon, a challenge in her eyes, beer and the heat in her blood. 'Tit for tat,' she said, and before she could stop herself she reached for her bra clasp. She pulled it off and threw it onto the side, and his mouth fell open. When she hooked her thumbs into her panties and manoeuvred out of them, she thought he was going to swallow half the pool.

' _Rayna_ ,' he gasped, gobsmacked, the guys whooping and whistling loudly behind him.

'I want in on this,' Kennedy hollered, unable to be left out of the fun any longer. He whipped off his clothes lightning fast and jumped in, no qualms whatsoever. Jimmy followed but stayed in his briefs - 'I ain't gonna get exposed near a drunk Vinny,' - and a couple of the other guys discarded shirts and t-shirts but kept their shorts firmly on.

'Take your clothes off Deacon,' Rayna told him, nodding her head in the direction of his underwear. He could barely speak, his eyes dipping to the expanse of her skin he could only see as a paler blur in the dark water.

'I would give anythin' for an underwater torch about now,' he said, lifting up his knees and pulling off his boxers. He held them above the water, never breaking eye contact with her, and threw them vaguely behind her, far enough for them to land on the side. 'That better?'

'Much.' She gave him a simmering smile, glancing down and finding herself also cursing how little she could see. The pool lights were mostly broken, only two of them on, and even one of those was flickering half-heartedly.

Rayna looked around, laughing when she saw her friends bobbing up and down in the water, spirits high and boundaries rock bottom. Vince, to catcalls and shrieks, jumped out to get a couple of crates of fresh beers from the side of the loungers and dragged them over to the pool so they could all reach. Deacon swam over to snag a couple for him and Rayna, pulling off the tops and holding his out to her in a toast.

'To skinny dippin',' he said, and she clinked her bottle against his. 'Who knew Vince gettin' his bits out could be such a good thing?'

They floated about and drank, boys being boys and ducking each other under, splashing around at every opportunity. Rayna lazily treaded water, finding herself feeling exhilarated and daring in her naked state, even more so given Deacon was also naked right next to her. He was unable to tear himself away, his eyes glued to her, but they stayed an arm's length from each other, as frustrating as it was.

'Hey,' Deacon whispered, as Kennedy tried to teach Jimmy a synchronised dance with his legs in the air over the other side of the pool, 'come with me.'

'Where are we going?' Rayna asked as he started to swim away, but he said nothing, motioning for her to follow him.

The deep end was flanked by some cheap-looking plastic rocks that lined the whole side of the pool there, and they swam towards them. She let him lead her right up to them, not sure what he was intending but as she opened her mouth to ask, she spotted an opening in the corner furthest away.

'Come on,' he said, and she glanced behind her, saw the others were still distracted, and swam quickly after him.

Around the edge of the fake rocks was another pool, smaller, with no lights at all. It was a little more shallow, and Deacon could just about walk on the bottom of it, but Rayna stretched out her legs and could feel only water. He turned around, grinning at her; they were completely hidden from view.

'How did you know this was here?' she asked in delight, and he shook his head.

'Lucky guess,' he said, moving closer to her and sliding his arms around her body. 'Hi, baby.'

'Well hi.' She smiled at him, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. Alone in a pool with Deacon… and not a stitch of clothing between them.

He stroked her back, careful not to let his hands stray anywhere they shouldn't, but when she draped her arms around his neck he pulled her a little closer, leaning in to kiss her. Rayna immediately felt herself flush; their mouths were wet, their skin too - it took them only seconds to get carried away. Deacon's tongue slid around hers and she found herself bobbing closer, nothing to balance on but him and a dangerously small sliver of space between them.

They kissed and kissed, unable to get enough of each other, and only when Rayna felt her back meet the edge of the pool did they stop.

'Sorry baby,' Deacon breathed, pulling her away from the tiles. 'I didn't realise how close to the edge we were.'

She laughed, smoothing a hand through his hair. He looked so irresistible wet that she could hardly stand it. 'You can say _that_ again.'

Deacon hummed, kissing her neck, and it felt so good that all thoughts fled from her mind momentarily. There was something she wanted to say to him though, and hey, she figured, no better time than naked in a swimming pool at well-past midnight.

'Deacon,' she said, her voice shaky - his lips were on her favourite spot, right below her ear.

'Mmm?'

'I need to… tell you something.' Her eyes closed, the sensations making all the right places tingle.

He pulled back, smoothing her hair out of her face and nodding, visibly trying to gather himself and focus. 'What is it, Ray?'

'Um, you know you said you… wanted to take it slow?' He nodded again. 'Well I… I appreciate it more than I could ever tell you.' She toyed with his collarbone, stroking it. 'I mean this is not how it is for most girls - guys are so eager to have sex, and a lot of them don't seem to be very, I don't know, patient about it. Not exactly gentlemen. But you, Deacon - you are the truest gentleman I've ever met.'

She cleared her throat, overwhelmed with feeling for him, and he nuzzled her nose with his.

'And see, I wanna do this right too, but… I want to do all these things, I wanna do them with _you_ , Deacon. And I've never… what I wanted to tell you is I've never, you know, before.'

Deacon smiled tenderly, looking into her eyes. 'You've never had sex before, you mean?'

She nodded gingerly, waiting for his reaction. She thought he might not be surprised, but they'd never actually had the conversation, and she felt kind of nervous as she watched his face. What she saw there, however, was nothing but love.

'I kinda figured,' he said, 'and there's nothin' at all to worry about, Ray.' He kissed her innocently, and she felt such an immense rush of emotion for him that she had to cling tighter to his shoulders to stay afloat. 'I'm real _real_ happy your first time will be with me. I can't think of a bigger honour, baby.'

'Really?' she asked in a whisper, feeling like she might cry.

'Really. But I want you to know I would never rush you into anythin' - whenever it happens will be the right time. I ain't like those other guys, Ray, not with you. You mean too much to me.' He bit his lip, casting his eyes skyward momentarily. 'Don't get me wrong, I'm not superhuman - it is _tough_ resistin' you. I've never wanted anyone so badly in my whole damn life as I want you, every second of the day, _every_ day.'

Rayna's stomach fizzed, and she was suddenly hyper aware that the top half of her breasts were above the water level, right below his chin… floating. 'Oh yeah?'

'Oh yeah. _God_ yeah. But this is somethin' special, Ray, somethin' real special, it's about a whole lot more than just sex. That's a part of it, of course, and it's a _good_ part of it, but there's so much more too with you and me.' He shook his head. 'I know we're hurtlin' through these bases, though - I mean, look at us right now, this is very much forbidden in the rulebook of takin' it slow.'

'There's a rulebook?' she said teasingly, and his face crinkled with laughter.

'Mmhmm,' he replied, kissing her, 'there's a rulebook. Rule number one,' he kissed her again, 'no makin' out ,' and again, 'in the pool. Naked.'

'Damn. Guess we failed that part.'

'I guess we did.'

They'd drifted back towards the side, and the wall pressed against Rayna's bare butt. It sent a thrill all the way through her, and she tilted her head, fixing Deacon with a sultry stare.

'Forbidden, hey?' she purred, and his eyes dropped to her lips. She pushed her breasts forward the couple of inches that remained between them, pressing them against his chest, and Deacon hissed.

'Remember when I said I'm not superhuman Ray?'

'I vaguely remember somethin' about that.' She grasped his hair and pulled his mouth down onto hers, and his hands circled her waist, keeping the lower half of her far enough away that he didn't rip the rulebook into shreds and light it on fire. He couldn't help himself entirely though, and his hands lowered until they were cupping her ass, giving her a light squeeze and making her gasp, her teeth scraping against his bottom lip.

She moved her legs apart and lifted her knees on either side of him, bracing them against him with barely a few inches between the parts of their bodies that were aching most of all; Deacon pressed his lips tightly together and breathed hard through his nose.

'It doesn't count underwater, right?' she said breathily, and he kissed her neck again, sending her near-insane.

'I damn well hope not, or we've failed about the first fuckin' _hundred_ rules.'

/

When they emerged the pool had mostly emptied, only Vince and Jimmy propped on their forearms talking quietly. They swam over to them, trying to look considerably more innocent than their make-out session had them feeling, and muttered something about having gone to find somewhere to 'talk'.

Vince, for his part, only snorted a _little_ , and he ducked under the water when he realised his faux pas. 'Want me to get your clothes for y'all, buddy?' he asked when he came back up, and Deacon had never been more grateful for a best friend who understood that he could have taken someone's eye out with how hard he was by that point.

Their clothes were damp, from humidity rather than pool water, and Deacon quickly threw on his jeans on and helped Rayna out, shielding her with his t-shirt to give her a modicum of privacy while she dressed, Vince and Jimmy turning to face the opposite way.

Rayna and Deacon bid their goodnights, heading into the hotel and not needing to speak to acknowledge that Deacon was unquestionably sleeping in Rayna's room.

'Do you think Vince will ask where you were?' was the only question she asked, and Deacon shook his head.

'Vince kinda, sorta knows about us. He asked me, a couple of days ago, and I figured he was gonna need to know at some point, I mean we live with him - on the road _and_ off it.'

He didn't tell her Vince had seen them at Brett's party, thinking it best to spare her that particular image.

Rayna's room was three doors down from Deacon and Vince's, and she slipped the card in, Deacon standing close behind her. She smelled like chlorine and sweet sweat, the really seductive kind, and when the door clicked open she walked inside, turning to face him with a coy look on her face. The door swung shut and they stood staring at each other, the anticipation between them at boiling point.

Deacon caved first, taking one stride towards her and gathering her in his arms, his lips on hers instantly. They stumbled in a horny blur further into the room, hands all over each other.

'Deacon,' Rayna murmured, gripping his back while he scraped his teeth over her neck, 'this takin' it slow thing?' He made some kind of noise into her skin, not even sure himself if it was supposed to be a word. 'Seein' as we have a hotel room to ourselves and all, how about we take it _just_ slow enough?'

He looked at her, his eyes hooded, hers dark as sin. 'Deal,' he answered, and in a flash they fell onto her bed, his hands on her ass and his lips on the hollow of her throat.

'Mmm,' she mumbled, and after a blissful minute she pushed him off her, his reactions too clouded to quite keep up. She sat up and when he mirrored her, she stripped off her tank, pulling it over her head.

' _Ray_ ,' he breathed, staring at her white, wet bra.

'Take it off, Deacon,' she commanded, and he inhaled sharply. He reached up behind her, finding the clasp, and with an ease that made her breathing quicken, snapped it open.

He peeled the straps down her arms, slowly, his eyes on hers, but as the cups fell his gaze shot downwards unwittingly and locked on her perfect, naked breasts. They were delicious, and he exhaled unevenly, feeling himself strain against his jeans, and lifted her so she straddled his lap, both of them sitting up in the middle of the bed. He kissed her searingly for a teasing second and dropped his head, her breasts - to his sheer delight - level with his face.

Rayna watched as he moved towards one, his mouth open. He laved her nipple with his wet tongue, and she gasped, arching towards him; he moved it around in a circle, cupping the underside of her breast with his hand, every nerve in his body in utter heaven. S _hit_ nothing had ever tasted so good to him, he marvelled as he pulled his tongue back and hovered over her, his hot breath making her tremble.

'Oh _Deacon_ ,' she uttered roughly, and when he sucked her nipple fully into his mouth she lost it, throwing her head back and moaning loudly. He sucked harder, unable to believe he had Rayna's breast in his fucking _mouth_. Her hand flew immediately to the back of his head, holding him right where she wanted him, and he was thrilled to oblige her.

He was rock hard between her legs and he no longer tried to hide it; he ground up into her and she rocked her hips against him, breathing in bursts, her eyes shut tight. It took every single bit of willpower Deacon had not to roll her on her back, pull down her shorts and panties and slide himself into her; instead he skated his hands up and down her bare back, his lips moving across her chest in a line of kisses. She groaned his name again when he pulled on her adjacent nipple with his teeth ever so lightly, and as he sucked, his hand closed over her other breast; he felt his pulse jump at the moisture his tongue had left there.

Rayna was pressed firmly against him everywhere possible, and he could feel the heat emanating through her shorts. He told himself to slow down, knowing it was a slippery slope they were on, and pulled his lips off her, tipping his head back to look at her face and reaching up for a kiss. She bit the tip of his tongue, her mouth hot and wet and damn him, he didn't stand a cat's chance in hell of listening to his self-imposed restraint.

She reached for his t-shirt and they pulled it over his head together, her arms looping around his neck, and when she pushed herself against his chest he heard himself moan, feeling her pert nipples pressing into his skin. He kissed her again, and they rocked back and forth, enjoying the feel of each other immensely.

'I can't believe this is real,' he breathed, and she smiled at him, nodding her head in equal amazement. He brushed her damp hair back from her face and kissed her nose, her cheeks, his hands sliding between them and brushing tenderly over her breasts in complete awe.

Somehow, her shorts ended up on the floor, delicate white panties all she had on. Her skin was slick with New Mexico heat, her chest and cheeks flushed. She was the most glorious sight Deacon had ever seen, no contest. 'The rulebook is very against this,' he said into her ear as they lay on their sides, her foot stroking his calf.

She smiled sheepishly. 'I guess we're really not very good at the slow thing, huh?'

'Hmm,' he said, 'I don't know about that,' and he kissed her neck, dragging hip lips down her skin at an excruciating speed. He trailed his fingers down her side, over the curve where her stomach met her hip, and eased her back so she was laid flat on the bed.

'You're so beautiful baby,' he whispered, letting his eyes travel over her body, and she blushed, dipping her head a little. He lifted her chin gently with his finger, looking into her eyes and kissing her, and she smiled against his lips.

He smoothed his hand over her breasts yet again, addicted to the way they felt, how heavy and full they were, and watched how they rose and fell rapidly under his touch. He was fascinated by her, by how responsive she was to the things he was doing to her, by how much she was clearly enjoying every moment.

He moved his hand lower, over her flat stomach, drawing a circle around her belly button. When he reached the line of her panties, toying with the very top of them, she squirmed and kissed him harder.

'Touch me Deacon,' she breathed, looking him in the eye, and he was certain they were the most arousing words he'd ever heard.

'Are you sure?' he asked, and when she nodded he moved lower, his hand gently finding its way between her legs and cupping her. She was hot, he could feel through her underwear, and he moved a finger back and forth over her, feather-light. She tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth, their mouths hovering open a millimetre apart, both breathing heavily.

He watched her eyes, the lids heavy, as he moved back to the top of her panties and slowly slid his hand inside them. He kept going, ready to stop at any moment if she tensed, but Rayna was looking up at him blissfully, lust rolling off her. His fingers found wetness, and he rubbed her delicately; she panted, pulling up her knees a little. Deacon took the encouragement and circled his middle finger, taking his time with her. He dipped the tip of it inside her, just a little, and her mouth fell open, her gaze locked on his; it drove him crazy, the way she didn't break eye contact with him.

'Mmm,' she urged, nodding her head to tell him to keep going.

He pushed his finger in further, his own mouth open wide too - the _feel_ of her, how wet she was, how warm. She opened her legs wider and he grunted, turned on beyond all measure. He watched her face as he pulled his finger out slowly and slid it back all the way into her; she bunched the comforter up in her hand, her eyes slamming shut.

'Oh my _God_ Deacon, that feels so good.'

She could barely find enough breath to get the words out, and he pumped in and out of her faster. He added, experimentally, a second finger, almost splitting his jeans when she whimpered; she gripped his bicep, holding onto his rippling muscles as he worked his hand, and he looked down at it moving inside her panties, swallowing hard and thanking every God he'd ever maybe believed in.

Through his intense arousal he took note of which spots made her moan when he touched them, eager to learn what she liked. When he curled his fingers and moved them in a beckoning motion she cried out, her head digging into the sheets. Her curse echoed around the room and he grinned to himself; _that_ was a spot he would remember. He kept going, right there, just as she told him, rubbing her with his thumb at the same time and lowering his head to suck one of her nipples into his mouth, and fuck it he'd never had an experience so unbelievable in his life.

And then it happened. Right there in his arms, almost naked and with his fingers deep inside her, Rayna Jaymes came.


	6. Chapter 6

**Another massive gap between chapters, ah this whole mess is rough, but there is no way I'll stop writing, we need to keep these characters alive and well, they're too special to waste the way the show senselessly has. The Deyna love is as strong as ever!**

 **I also wanted to comment on something I saw posted recently. I personally feel the beauty of fanfic is that the characters do not belong to any one or two of us, they belong to ALL of us, and we all should feel welcomed and encouraged to write, and support each other in doing so. Particularly in light of what's happened on the show that now means that for a lot of us, there IS no more show, we need fanfic more than ever and I am so glad to see great new writers popping up - it doesn't matter whether you've been writing for Nashville since the beginning or last year or last week. You're all welcome here and I love reading your stories - you help keep Rayna and Deacon alive and active in wonderful ways. The more the merrier!**

 **(In no way at all is this meant to offend anyone - I wish only to say I hope other writers feel welcome to tell their own stories rather than feeling discouraged. This is no reflection on or disrespect to the person who posted the comment, only on the effect I know it's had on several people, and that saddens me.)**

 **P.s. I have no idea if you can two-step to Jolene - let's just say you can.**

The snores emanating from the room when Deacon closed the door quietly told him Vince was still asleep. He crept into the bathroom, peeing and splashing some water on his face; his reflection in the mirror was of someone he barely recognised, but was seeing more and more of lately. His cheeks were pinker than usual, his eyes bright and wide, as though he'd seen something he couldn't quite believe. His lips were inflamed, and he lifted his fingers to touch them, sucking in a breath when he realised with a jolt that he could smell Rayna on them. He closed his eyes, inhaling her scent and feeling like his whole body was smiling. This new person in the mirror was _happy_.

Deacon, generally speaking, was a shower-every-day kind of guy. Sure, in times gone by, if it was a lazy Sunday and he was only leaving the house to run to the liquor store or grab a drive-thru burger he might not bother. That had changed, as Vince had taken great pleasure in pointing out to him several times, since Rayna had moved in with them. Sitting around in his sweats with an unacceptable amount of scruff and questionable stains on his t-shirt wasn't something he did these days, and he'd half-heartedly refused until recently to admit she was the reason, though it had already been abundantly clear.

Today, however, he didn't want to shower. She was his reason this time too, but less because he didn't want her to think he was a slob and entirely because he could smell her skin all over him and there was no way he was going to wash that away. He could feel her hands stroking his face, her toes sliding up his leg, her bare body pressed up against him. He even questioned for a solid minute whether he wanted to brush his teeth and lose the taste of her lips to _minty fresh_ , but he figured that was a step too far, and hell she wouldn't enjoy kissing him some _more_ if she could taste last night's beer on his breath.

And damn, did Deacon want her to kiss him some more. Preferably every 20 seconds or so throughout the day, every day.

Never, ever had he had thoughts in even the same universe before. He'd never woken up amazed to have a girl in his arms - he hadn't even spent the night with most of the girls he'd slept with - or missed her the second she'd left his sight. He'd never found himself replaying over and over what it felt like to kiss her, how sweet her hair smelled when she was near.

He'd certainly never daydreamed about spending the rest of his days with a girl, what it would be like to call her his for all of his life.

Another thing he'd never done was tell a girl he loved her. He'd never come even remotely close - he hadn't, quite honestly, really believed love was a real thing, until he'd met Rayna. It had happened right away; he'd felt something from the first time he'd laid eyes on her, a sort of warm bubbling that had pulsed in his belly, and when she'd met his gaze from her place on the stage, the bubbles had set off at high speed into every one of his veins. It had only grown since then, the feeling he'd quickly realised - and spent months afterwards denying to himself - was love. It astounded him in its intensity, in how absolutely sure he was of the way he felt about her. He hadn't said the actual words to her yet - he knew that she knew, but he so badly wanted to tell her, out loud, a spoken affirmation of what he told her physically every time he kissed her.

There were a handful of days in his life Deacon would never forget. Some of those he wished he could, their pain and weight ever-fresh, burned into his mind. Some days, though, and they were becoming more and more frequent, he wanted to hold onto and never let go of. They all had one thing in common: every single one of them included Rayna. The previous night was up there with some of the highest ranking, nestled alongside the day he met her, singing her heart out onstage at The Bluebird, and the afternoon they discovered the unexpected magic of writing together. Their first time singing with each other was maybe his favourite, tied for first place with the night they kissed.

He had a very strong feeling that list was going to grow and grow, his life irreversibly changed for having Rayna in it, every ounce for the better.

He shut off the bathroom light and sprawled out on his bed, deciding he'd have a half hour nap - sleep had not exactly been on last night's agenda.

'If it isn't the prodigal Claybourne.' Vince's dulcet tones made him snap his eyes back open. 'Did you have fun skinny dippin' in Rayna's room?' He'd draped himself on his side, one leg sticking out from under the covers, his briefs twisted revealingly.

'Jesus, Vinny, I'm gettin' flashbacks to last night,' Deacon said, pointing at his crotch. 'It's too early to see your balls, man - I ain't even had any coffee yet.'

'Need some caffeine, do ya?' Vince tucked himself in, giving the elastic a ping for fun. 'Up all night?'

Deacon dropped his head back onto the pillow. 'I could do with a vat of Barb's special brew, put it that way.'

'And which way _did_ you put it, huh? Come on, you definitely had sex last night. You and Rayna were a walkin' ad for foreplay.'

'I told you, it's too soon.'

Vince rolled over and groaned into his pillow. 'You are killin' me - she was completely fuckin' naked in that pool, right there in front of you. You had your dick out, dude, you mean to tell me you didn't just, you know, slide on in there?'

Deacon hurled a pillow at him, shaking his head. 'You think I'd have sex with Rayna for the first time in a pool right next to you idiots?'

'Chlorine's a great birth control, you know.'

'Vince, please tell me you've never used that bullshit line on a girl.'

'Well, I mean I've tried. It'll work one of these days.' He sat up. 'So what _were_ you doin' when you up and disappeared for half the night by yourselves? Braidin' each other's hair?'

'We were, you know, talkin'. Like I said.' Deacon tried his best to keep a straight face but he didn't manage it for long, and he gave a little laugh, twisting the corner of the bedcover around his finger. 'Alright maybe talkin' and some other stuff.'

'And you spent all night in her room, after that, after bein' ass-naked in a pool with her _talkin_ ', and you still didn't have sex with her?' Vince sighed, raising his hands up in surrender. 'You have the willpower of the Gods, Deac. Your dick must be fuckin' purple this mornin'.'

Deacon laughed at that - it wasn't far from the truth.

What had happened the night before had been the most gratifying experience of his life, far more so than any sex he'd ever had. Rayna had still been trembling when he'd pulled her into his arms, and he'd kissed her over and over, soft kisses, his hand combing through her hair.

He'd always thought it was bullshit when people said girls glowed after an orgasm. Maybe he'd just never paid enough attention - but then he'd never wanted to lay and hold a girl for hours afterwards. Rayna _glowed_. He found himself fascinated by it - the satiated look on her face, the pliable softness of her body. He'd pulled the thin topsheet up over them, wrapping them close together; laying there with her, feeling her nuzzle into him, he didn't know how they would ever bring themselves to move from the bed.

'Not a word to Rayna,' Deacon said, giving Vince a warning look. 'I don't want her thinkin' I'm goin' and blabbin' to you about her.'

'Oh please, you ain't told me anythin' anyway. And you know damn well she's on the phone right now tellin' those hotties from the diner way more than I've managed to get out of you.' Vince stretched and picked up a half-empty can of last night's beer from his bedside table, sniffed it and took an experimental sip, followed by a glug. 'You know - when it finally does happen, the sex is gonna be _good_.'

Deacon smiled, contemplating such a marvel. And then suddenly his smile slipped. 'Vinny…' he said, sitting up and shooting his friend a look of concern, 'what if it _isn't_ good when it happens? What if after all the build-up, she doesn't, you know, enjoy it?'

Vince raised his eyebrows. 'Did she enjoy last night?' At Deacon's grin he nodded, his point proven, staggered out of bed and farted. 'You and Rayna could set a fuckin' barn on fire from twenty paces with all the sexual tension shit between you. When you finally do bone her - dude, the whole fuckin' hotel's gonna enjoy it.'

###

Rayna was dozing when they rolled into Austin. It was early evening and they had a travel day, so they'd spent it lazy as could be, lounging around on the couches playing card games and singing along to the crackly radio that lost its signal every few miles. She stirred as the wheels slowed, her eyes opening and a yawn slipping out. Her feet were on Deacon's lap, her head propped on a cushion; discreetly, he was trailing his fingers in little circles around one of her ankles, and she waggled her toes, giving him a sleepy smile.

It was dry and hot in the city, a dusty breeze welcoming them when they stepped off the bus. Rayna stretched, her bones grateful for the release. 'We got the night off, right?' she asked, still muddled with sleep. 'Please tell me we do 'cause I am not gettin' changed for anyone right now.'

'Why would you need to get changed?' Deacon asked, his eyes drifting up and down her body a little too obviously; they were getting less and less careful around other people, as much as they wanted to keep their secret. 'I think you'd look cute on stage in that.'

She shook her head at him, unable to help the smile that spread across her face, and tucked in the Willie Nelson t-shirt she'd stolen from him, though nobody but Vince knew it was his.

'But we do have the night off, yeah,' he added. 'We're fancy free, y'all - what're we gonna do with ourselves?'

'I vote that we start with some serious food,' Vince said, cracking his neck from side to side. 'I heard they do a killer taco around here and I am _starvin_ '.'

/

Vince, for once, was right. After filling their bellies with too many rounds of tacos and more guacamole than should be legal, they moved onto a bar down the street that had come recommended by a guy with a bushy moustache and a beat-up Stetson. The place, they discovered, was an Austin staple, a wooden hall buzzing with locals and the odd gaggle of amused tourists.

They found a table just big enough to squish onto, borrowing spare rickety stools from the people sitting nearby, and Rayna slid onto the one next to Deacon, his leg pushed up against hers in the limited space. She squeezed his thigh under the table, letting her hand stay there a moment; when she pulled back he caught her and ran his thumb over her palm, making her shiver, and she ducked her head to hide the pink that pinched her cheeks.

Vince got a round of shots in and they held their glasses high, clinking to nights off and the Texas heat. Barb, who tipped hers back as though it was water, slammed her empty glass down on the table with a smack of her lips and reached into her pocket, her hips wobbling precariously over the haggard little stool.

'There we go,' she said, producing a burnished silver hipflask. 'Top us up, Vince.'

'You smuggled in, what is this, whiskey?'

'You bet I did. Lucky if you get your hands on anythin' better than a JD in a place like this.'

Rayna laughed, accepting the glass Vince poured and wondering how many it would take to affect Barb who had the liver of an ox. It amazed her, especially as the hum of whiskey zipped through her veins and made her feel woozy - she, apparently, was a cheap date.

'That's good stuff,' Deacon said, licking his lips.

Rayna tried not to stare, but she couldn't help it; the tip of his tongue lingered on his bottom lip and she wanted nothing more than to reach up and bite on it. She felt Vince's eyes on her and cleared her throat, giving him a little _what?_ shrug. She knew that Deacon had told him they were together, but she wasn't sure exactly how much he knew; judging by the smirk on his face, she guessed enough to know what she was imagining.

'I feel like a spring fuckin' chicken in this joint,' Jimmy said, looking around. Couples and small groups were milling around the dancefloor, two-stepping in time to the band who were playing some jaunty rendition of Jolene. 'I think we're the only people in here under a hundred years old.'

'Speak for yourself,' Barb retorted. 'Now which one of you youngsters is gonna ask me to dance?' They all stared at her in surprise, and she rolled her eyes. 'Don't all jump at once.'

'You know how to two-step, Barb?' Rayna asked, thoroughly unable to imagine it.

'I sure do, kid - you don't grow up in the South in my generation and not learn a thing or two about how to move your ass around a barn.'

'Well then I guess I'm gonna have to have you teach me, ma'am,' Vince said grandly, getting to his feet and holding out his hand.

She accepted, taking a swig from her hipflask as she got up. 'One for the road.'

'Our bus driver, ladies and gentlemen,' Kennedy quipped.

Rayna watched as Vince bowed dramatically and Barb gave him a belly-laugh; it made her heart happy, and she found herself tapping her foot along to the rhythm, leaning her shoulder into Deacon's.

'He's a natural,' Deacon said, howling with laughter as Barb tried to teach Vince, who had two left feet, the simple dance. In the midst of her instruction he trod heavily on her toe and she swiped him upside the head, much to his enjoyment.

'Quick-quick slow,' they heard her say as the two of them passed by in their rotation around the room, 'not quick-quick slow the hell down to a halt.'

'Barb, are you comin' onto me?'

'You wanna thank your lucky stars I ain't, Jameson, you wouldn't stand a chance against this charm.'

Rayna wiped at her eyes, laughing so hard when Vince added a twirl in the middle of the steps and tried unsuccessfully to dip Barb that she snorted a little. The other couples danced around them, making it look easy as could be, some of them trying to give Vince helpful pointers, but their efforts were in vain.

'Alright, I'm gonna have to show him how it's done,' Deacon declared, standing and rolling up his sleeves.

'Wait a minute, you know how to two-step too?' Rayna asked incredulously.

'I sure do. My Grandmomma taught me when I was a kid. She taught me most stuff I know, actually - where'd you think I learned to make a mean grilled cheese?'

That much was true, he did make a mean grilled cheese. Rayna lifted her eyebrows, surprised. 'You just keep unfoldin' like a flower. Let's see your moves then, Fred Astaire.'

He squeezed onto the floor and Vince sighed in relief when he was excused from Barb's tuition. She took Deacon's arm and he did some chivalrous dip of his head that made Rayna feel like she'd melted from the inside out. He wasn't kidding - he moved around the floor with such ease that even Barb looked impressed, and maybe even a little bit flustered. So did the other women around him, who gave him the kind of smiles that said _If only I was thirty years younger_.

He was hers. Rayna couldn't believe it was true, that this sweet, intriguing man who made girls throw themselves at him and older women fan their faces when he smiled was all hers. He caught her eye as he guided Barb expertly past their table and she fizzed with butterflies, trying hard to resist the urge to throw herself into his arms.

'I think someone has a crush on Deac,' Kennedy said with a whistle, and Rayna whipped to face him.

'What?' she squeaked, ready to protest her affections.

'Barb's a little hot under the collar there,' he clarified, missing Rayna's blush and nodding his head towards where she was bashfully slapping Deacon on the chest at something he'd just said.

'Dude I think _I_ have a crush on Deac watchin' this shit - look how smooth he is. What a fuckin' legend,' Jimmy laughed.

Vince took Deacon's seat next to her and leaned in close. 'You better watch these cougars,' he murmured into her ear, 'they might try to slip him a roofie and steal him from you.'

She smirked, nudging him with her shoulder. 'They'd have a fight on their hands.'

It was the first time she'd acknowledged to Vince that there was something going on with her and Deacon, and though he knew anyway, she felt nervous as she looked at him, a little worried she'd see disapproval on his face. Deacon was his best friend, and she'd come along and moved into their house, brought him into her band, and now into her bed.

There was no trace of disapproval though. What she saw on Vince's face instead surprised her: it looked a lot like happiness.

'Somehow I don't think they would,' he said, his voice low enough that Kennedy and Jimmy couldn't hear. 'I ain't never seen Deac this way about any other girl, not even close, Rayna. Ain't anyone in the world could turn his head from you.'

She smiled up at him, feeling like she might cry for some reason, and she didn't know what to say so she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek instead. For once he had no smart comeback and he slung his arm around her, laughing as a lady with a blue rinse pinched Deacon's cheeks when the song ended.

'Well I need a lie down after that,' Barb exclaimed, clattering back to their table. 'I haven't had a man dance me off my feet since 1959.' She plopped back into her seat and Rayna slid a glass of water over to her, the feeling in her belly making her want to jump up and hug every single one of their little group.

Deacon was still standing and she looked up at him, realising he was patiently holding his hand out to her with a playful smile. 'Care to dance, ma'am?' he said in his most Southern accent.

'I can't dance,' she laughed, shaking her head and suddenly feeling shy; she _did_ have a crush, big time.

'Sure you can, Ray. All those country club dinners, they didn't two-step?'

'Are you kiddin' me? They wouldn't dream of havin' any actual _fun_ at those things.' She tipped her head to the side, pretending to consider his still-outstretched hand. 'But,' she drawled, matching his exaggerated accent, 'I guess my momma taught me a thing or two. I might be able to remember a little quick-quick slow.'

Deacon's eyes twinkled at her and she slipped her hand into his, immediately feeling the heat that shot between them. He led her to the dancefloor and slipped his arm around her waist, tangling their fingers and starting to move forward to the rhythm of the song.

'Well now, looks like you remember just fine,' he breathed into her ear, and she felt herself tingle all over.

She winked at him, the dance affording her the chance to twist her hand in his just to feel her skin rub against his. He led her skillfully, not missing a step, the other pairs smiling at them. Deacon's arm was strong around her, his chest against her shoulder, and she wondered for a serious moment whether her underwear might slither to the floor all of its own accord.

'I'm pretty sure these ladies are shootin' daggers at me under those smiles,' she said. 'They all wanna be dancin' with you, they're makin' no secret of it.' His lips were so close - she could, feasibly, reach up just a little further...

He chuckled and she felt it ripple through his chest. 'They makin' you jealous Ray? Want me to kiss you right here and show 'em all who my girl is?'

'I dare you,' she whispered, and he leaned a little closer, giving her such a flirty look that her knees wobbled.

'You know I love a dare, baby,' he whispered back.

'Hey Deac,' Vince called, and Rayna remembered where they were and looked up to see him leaning over the edge of their table. 'You gonna dance with me next? I'll let you feel me up later.'

Deacon laughed, shaking his head. 'You're on, buddy. Keep your hands off my ass though.'

'I love tonight,' Rayna murmured, turning her happy face up towards Deacon, who tightened his hold on her and nodded.

'Me too, baby. I ain't never been so happy as you make me. Let's stay on tour forever, Ray, I don't want this to end.'

'Deal,' she said, the easiest bargain she'd ever struck, and he gave her a little impromptu twirl.

'You look sexy in that t-shirt,' he said when he pulled her back into his arms.

/

'I'm startin' to think Barb might've spiked us,' Vince confided in the table sometime around midnight when the bar had started to clear. 'I'm wasted as all hell and she ain't even wobblin', look at her - she's put away more than the rest of us combined. My good friend Bill behind the bar is gonna have to close early on account of dryin' up.'

'Isn't his name Will?' Deacon asked, squinting at the guy pulling a beer for a bald trucker. 'Damn, would you look at his beard? That is the most impressive fuckin' facial hair I ever seen.'

'How d'you reckon he gets it so shaped?' Vince marvelled. 'It's like a sculpted garden hedge. You think he takes a pair of shears to it?'

They both tilted their heads to the side, peering at Bill or Will, much to Rayna's amusement; she watched them self-consciously rub their chins and held back her laughter, getting up from her seat unsteadily. 'All the garden shears in the world won't give you two beards like that,' she said, leaning in between them and patting them both on the shoulder in commiseration. I've seen you after a few days of not shavin', y'all look like Santa got himself in a fight with a blunt razor.'

'Come on now, Rayna, you know I got better chin follicles than Deac. Granted, he does have a better head on him than I do.'

Rayna snickered, scratching Vince's patchy chin fluff fondly. 'I gotta pee.'

She wove her way towards the ladies' room and clattered through the door. When she came out of the stall, Barb was washing her hands at the sinks, a half-drunk glass of bourbon balanced on the tiles next to the taps.

'Well hey sweets,' she said, catching Rayna's reflection in the mirror and turning around. She wiped her wet hands on her jeans and leaned back, her cheeks mottled red. Barb didn't get drunk, but her face sure did. 'How you doin'?'

Rayna squeezed in beside her and turned on the water. 'I think it might be my bedtime,' she confessed, splashing a little on her face. 'Hasn't it been a great night Barb?' She let herself drop onto the wooden chair next to the sink, and it wobbled under her, one leg begging to give up.

'It sure has kid. Who knew those boys had dancin' feet? Well, Deacon does anyway, I can't exactly heap praise on the others.'

Rayna smiled drunkenly. 'Tour is so much fun, Barb. I wanna do this forever.' She rested her elbows precariously on her knees. 'You been on the road your whole life and you still love it, right?'

'Well shit, don't tell anyone, but yeah, I really do.'

'All these places we're gettin' to see - we're so lucky.'

Barb studied her, rocking a little on her heels. 'Your mamma would be proud as all get out.'

Rayna peered up at her, squinting in the dirty light. 'Wait, you knew my mom?'

'Nashville's a small town, everybody knows everybody. And in any case I know she'd be pleased as punch that you're livin' the life that's meant for you.'

Rayna sighed wistfully, chewing on her lip. 'It doesn't come as a guarantee, your parents bein' proud of you. My Daddy sure isn't. And Deacon, oh Barb, he told me no one's ever said they're proud of him. Not one person. I told him I was when he was standin' in for Randy's guitar player the other day, and you should've seen his face.'

'Well now,' Barb said gently, 'and there's such a lot to be proud of - Deacon's a great kid. Sure got a lotta demons for someone so young - he's got that broodin' thing down perfectly. Havin' you, though, that's his blessing. Even knowin' him a few weeks I can see the difference in him.'

'You can?'

'Mmhmm. He looks like he could piss rainbows.'

Rayna plucked at the edge of Deacon's t-shirt, trying to hide how big her smile was. 'I can't believe it was ever _not_ this way.'

'Bein' on the road has a funny way of bringin' out your truths. And if you can survive it, all the sleepless nights and all the miles to somewhere you've forgotten the name of before you even get there, and hold onto each other when it's all whirlin' around you, you got a good thing. It's a deep and crazy love that's born out of music.' She gave Rayna a wink. 'And steel is forged in the fire, kid.'

###

Tandy had spent the morning sitting at a spare desk in the Austin branch of the company she worked for, annoyed at her too-high heels and cursing the lack of air conditioning. It was Texas, for goodness' sake, how could they not have adequate air con?

Rayna had advised her to wait until lunchtime to head over to the venue. Musicians, so it seemed, didn't wake up until everyone else had done half a day's work, so she'd taken advantage of their opposing sleep schedules and had managed to close a big deal with a client, return three important phone calls and have her assistant fax over her schedule for the rest of the week, all before Rayna had even had breakfast, more than likely.

She'd also stopped to pick up a newspaper and had read the article about Randy's tour rolling into town with relish - her baby sister didn't need high heels and a sensible hemline to make her proud, it was turning out. She'd never thought Rayna embarking on her dream of being a musician would be something she'd be able to get behind, it was so against the nature of the Wyatt family, but here she was.

It wasn't, however, against their mother's nature. She'd been a singer herself, a dreamer, a wanderer. She'd also been a deserter and a cheater, led by her desires rather than her responsibilities. Rayna was more like her than she had any idea, and the wonderful parts, Tandy could support and champion her on, but there was a line she was determined to keep her on the right side of for her own good; she didn't want to see Rayna lose her grounding, her sense of what was right and wrong, and risk repeating Virginia's mistakes.

Deacon Claybourne, Tandy was sure, was a mistake.

The staff on the door of the Paramount Theatre were smoking cigarettes and slating the band who'd played there the night before when Tandy turned up. She gave them a good few seconds to acknowledge her presence and when they didn't, she tapped her heel on the floor and cleared her throat purposefully.

'Well hi there,' she said in a forced-polite tone, and they looked at her with only the smallest hint of guilt. 'Tandy Wyatt, I'm here to see Rayna Jaymes? She's expecting me, she should have left a pass here for me. If you could check I'd appreciate that.'

'Er, sure,' said a spotty, skinny boy who couldn't be older than eighteen. 'What did you say your name was?'

'Tandy Wyatt.'

'Wyatt like Wyatt Earp?'

'Yes,' Tandy said, narrowing her eyes and giving him a patronising slow blink, 'Wyatt like Wyatt Earp.'

It was Vince she found first, unfortunately for her. He was sitting on a folding chair in a backstage corridor with an uncouth posture, his unwieldy legs splayed out before him, those God-awful ripped jeans he seemed to live in making him look like Bambi's hillbilly cousin.

'Ms Tandy!' he exclaimed when he turned his head, apparently surprised to hear heels clicking down the hall. He sprung to his feet and gave her a look up and down without the slightest bit of shame, and to her horror, extended his arms to embrace her. She obliged, rigidly - she was after all raised with good Southern manners.

'Good to see you too, Vincent,' she said, patting his back with as little of her hand as she could.

'Oh come on now, we're practically family - it's Vince. Or Vinny, if you'd prefer.' He gave her what he obviously thought was a winning smile and did some strange mating-ritual hip swivel in her general direction. Either that or he hadn't visited the bathroom in a while and was trying to retain his faculties. 'But I'd answer to anythin' you wanted to call me.'

'Vince,' she said, punctuating the word with distaste, though he didn't appear to hear it, 'would you happen to know where I can find my sister?'

'I sure would, but it would be ungentlemanly of me to just point and shoot - I'll escort you to her myself.' He gave a flourish of his arm and despite herself, Tandy suppressed a smile. He looked so ridiculous she couldn't help it.

'Rayna told me you were comin' today of course - I put on a fresh shirt 'specially. Gotta make an effort for a special guest such as yourself.'

Vince was too busy steering her down the corridor through the chaos that was unfolding to notice her sceptical look. These music halls certainly were bustling places, she noted, her nose wrinkling at the hint of sweat and cigarettes hovering in the air. Vince, to give him his dues, smelled like fresh coffee and hair gel, somewhat surprisingly; less surprising was the additional whiff of stale beer he hadn't quite showered away.

'How is your tour going?' she asked politely, watching him raise a hand in greeting every few paces as they passed crew members. He was obviously a popular guy, she thought, giving him a side-glance and wondering when he'd last shaved. He was sprouting the promising beginnings of a beard, though she wouldn't comment on it of course - beards weren't Tandy's thing. Not since that one boy she'd kissed at a college party some time ago, anyway, and that was just a case of one glass of chardonnay too many. He had been kind of attractive though, from what she remembered...

'Oh it's the shit,' Vince said, his eyebrows shooting up as he clearly realised that cussing in front of a lady probably wasn't acceptable. 'It's very enjoyable,' he amended. 'Good bunch of people, great shows every night. Your sister is goin' places, that's for sure.'

Tandy nodded, slightly fearful at the prospect. She glanced at Vince. 'I'm sure you wouldn't tell me either way, but if I was to ask you if she was being… sensible, on this trip, would you say so? I mean, no boys, no smoking, no drinking, that kind of thing?'

His expression was so overly innocent that Tandy knew two things instantly: Rayna wasn't being sensible, and Vince was going to lie through his teeth about it.

'Oh absolutely. Rayna is practically a saint. No misbehavin' from her, no ma'am.'

They rounded a corner and Vince stopped in his tracks; Tandy bumped his shoulder and came to a stop too, frowning and looking past him. Deacon. Kissing someone up against a wall in a deserted part of the backstage area. She could just about see a tumble of familiar red hair, the girl's arms wrapped around his neck. One of Deacon's hands, Tandy noted with absolute fury, was on the girl's ass.

' _Rayna_?' she about spat out, and Deacon snapped around to face them with a look of pure fear on his face. 'Deacon,' Tandy seethed, his name coming out as an accusation. She saw him gulp, and Rayna, who was flushed pink, either from the kissing or the being caught, pushed herself upright somewhat unsteadily.

'Um, hey Tandy,' she said with an awkward little wave, and Tandy was glad to hear she sounded at least a little sheepish.

'Hey Rayna,' she said pointedly. She turned to Vince, hands on hips. 'No misbehavin', is that right? Guess I've had my question answered.'

Vince had the nerve to look almost entertained, like he was about to crack open some popcorn and pull out a lawnchair. He glanced at Deacon as if to say _you are gonna get your ass handed to you, buddy_ , and leaned faux-casually on a nearby rail of clothes. 'Well look on the bright side,' he drawled, 'she ain't smokin' or drinkin'.'

/

It was a warm, overcast day outside, the air wet with the promise of a summer storm, and Rayna was fairly sure if the downpour unleashed itself her favourite battered cowboy boots wouldn't last two minutes.

As it was, they were already protesting at being marched around the city. Tandy hadn't dragged her so much as firmly insisted she haul her ass out the door, and they'd headed straight for the shopping district, the impending lecture brewing until she just couldn't keep it in any longer.

'Daddy would kill him if he knew,' she'd said, 'and he probably does, Rayna - Daddy knows _everything_.'

She didn't stop talking all the way to Neiman Marcus, Tandy's retail therapy version of Valium, and she was through the door and into the tailored trouser section without so much as pausing for breath or breaking her stride.

'You need a new suit, Tandy?' Rayna asked dryly, and Tandy smoothed her hands over her hair and gripped the nearest pinstripe pants.

'They calm me down. And don't change the subject.'

Rayna sighed, poking at an unflattering pair of slacks and pulling a face.

'I thought you came on this tour to follow your heart, Rayna, to get closer to this career you so badly want. Not to make out with some… brooding guitar player.'

'Okay, why does everyone keep sayin' Deacon is brooding? That's just his face, he's not- you know what, doesn't matter.' She huffed out a breath. 'Tandy, I _am_ following my heart. More than I ever have in my whole life. Deacon and music, they are my heart - both equally. They're the same thing, to me. Deacon and I, we write these songs, Tandy, these beautiful, meaningful songs.'

'Oh I bet you do. I'm sure you _write songs_. I'm sure he wants to do all kinds of beautiful meaningful things with you.' Tandy folded her arms across her chest defiantly, as though it was her decision to make and it was done. 'He is not an appropriate match for you, Rayna. He's older than you, for a start, and he is clearly… experienced.'

'You don't understand.'

'I understand - I understand perfectly well. You're young and pretty, you come from money. He's from the wrong side of the tracks and I'm not doubting his attraction to you is real - obviously, it is, he can't keep his hands off you. But he isn't like us, Rayna.'

Rayna shook her head, not sure whether to be angry or saddened by her sister's words. 'You don't know him. You have no idea who he is. It doesn't matter where he comes from, or what judgements you make about him - his heart is more wonderful than you could possibly imagine. I love him, Tandy. I really do.'

'Sweetheart,' Tandy said, softening instantly, 'you're seventeen. This is infatuation, not love.'

'You're wrong,' Rayna insisted, with such absolute certainty that Tandy closed her mouth, whatever she was about to say silenced. She studied Rayna's face and sighed.

'At least tell me you're being careful,' she said eventually. 'I very much hope Deacon has at least some self control - apparently he has none in your place of work.'

'We haven't had sex, if that's what you mean.'

That surprised Tandy somewhat, and she let go of the pants, one neat eyebrow raised. 'Well good, and you never should. Ever.'

Rayna chewed on her lip, wondering whether the conversation was diffused enough to ask what was on the tip of her tongue.

'We will, though,' she said gently, 'have sex. And pretty soon - I'm ready, Tandy.' She thought Tandy looked a little woozy, and for a second she was sure she'd faint right into the row of perfectly cut white shirts behind her. 'I want it to be with him - I trust Deacon completely. I just know it's right.'

'I need a cigarette,' her sister said faintly, looking around as though one might appear out of thin air, and Rayna's eyes widened - she didn't know Tandy had ever so much as touched a cigarette.

'Um…'

'Your virginity is something you can only give away once. You can't have it back. It's like chocolate cake - once it's gone, it's _gone_.'

Rayna considered her, watching something flicker across her face. 'What was your first time like?' she asked. 'Did you regret it?'

Tandy rubbed her temples and sank into a cushioned chair that was too fancy to be meant for actual sitting. 'It wasn't great, put it that way. It was with a boy in my History class and he had a perfect GPA and no personality. It wasn't awful, it just… wasn't great. His parents were out of town for the weekend and I told Daddy I was studying at Eleanor Ranger's house, you know, the girl with the obnoxious bangs?'

' _That's_ what you were doin' that weekend?' Rayna squeaked. 'I remember that - I knew you hated Eleanor Ranger!'

'Mmhmm. She was a pain in my ass. Anyway, it would have probably been a better use of time if I _had_ been studying. Let's just say it gets better than the first time, thank God, otherwise no one would ever bother doing it.'

Rayna laughed, immensely grateful they could talk about the subject. 'Do you wish you'd done it with someone else instead of him?'

'Well sure - I wish it had been with the captain of the football team with the really great head of hair and the perky biceps. But hey, we can't always get what we want.' She gave a shadow of a smile, as though it had slipped out regardless of her efforts to the contrary. 'That's something I can't argue with when it comes to Deacon - he is cute as all hell.'

'He sure is.' Rayna agreed, the mere thought of his chiselled looks making her feel the need to lie down.

'He's what some unrefined ladies would call a panty-dropper,' Tandy added conspiratorially.

'Tandy!'

'That doesn't mean you should give into those hormones and sleep with him though - there's a big difference between lusting after a hot guy and actually having real feelings.'

'They're real,' Rayna clarified quietly, sitting down in the adjacent chair. Tandy slid an arm around her and pulled her close, and Rayna rested her head on her shoulder. 'You know, people say you lose your virginity,' she mused, 'but I don't see it that way at all, not with Deacon. I _want_ to give it to him. I won't be losing anything - it's the opposite.'

After a long moment, Tandy sighed, but it was in resignation rather than frustration. 'I know there's no changing your mind when it's made up, so I might as well at least make sure you're prepared.' She tilted her head, a school-teacher stare fixed on her face. 'Make sure it's not on that damn bus - no one needs to have sex for the first time while they're goin' over potholes.'

Rayna snickered. 'No potholes, I got it. Hey Tandy? Can I ask you somethin'?'

'Sure, sweetheart.'

'Is it scary?'

Tandy kissed the side of Rayna's head, smoothing her hair fondly. 'With Deacon, if you really do love him?' She smiled. 'No. Not at all.'

###

Deacon had had Vince check around every corner all afternoon in fear of running into Tandy and getting his balls handed to him in a designer purse. They'd flown through a quick soundcheck before Tandy had pulled Rayna firmly out of the door, shooting him a withering stare that told him she was in no way finished with him.

Vince hadn't stopped laughing about the unfortunate run-in since, Deacon's peril apparently of great amusement to him. They'd retreated to the lot out back after Tandy had left the building, hiding behind one of the trucks to pace back and forth, on Deacon's part, figuring even if she came back to finish him off she would never think to look there.

'I don't know what the hell you're laughin' at, man - when she murders me with the heel of one of those lethal shoes you'll have to pay the rent yourself.' Deacon ran his hands through his hair. 'She'll probably hide my body under your bed to punish you, too - you told her Rayna was a _saint_ on this tour? You didn't think that might be a bullshit too far?'

'Well she pretty much is, dude - her ass is saintly, anyway.'

'Oh my God you are gonna get us both murdered.'

'Deac, man, you gotta calm your shit. Here, smoke this.'

Deacon stopped pacing and looked at the joint Vince produced from the depths of a jeans pocket. He picked a piece of fluff off it and held it out. 'You think it's gonna help if Tandy gets back here and I smell like a fuckin' pothead? Jesus, Vinny. Not only am I corruptin' her sister but I'm doin' it high.'

'Suit yourself,' Vince said, shrugging and flipping open his lighter. Deacon knocked it out of his hand and shook his head.

'You ain't makin' me look worse than I already do. Smoke a regular cigarette, and for the love of God chew gum even after that. Save that thing for when Tandy is at least two states away.'

'Deacon, you're my buddy and I love you an' all, but I think you're bein' a pussy right now. Tandy ain't so bad - she told me she liked my shirt this mornin'. She's got class.'

'Your shirt has a streak of porridge down the front - I think she was bein' ironic.' Deacon slumped down onto the wall next to Vince. 'Tandy is Country Clubs and trust funds, Vinny. She don't want her sister with no dumb kid with not a lot more than a couple of dimes to rub together. I ain't got shit to my name, I can't give Rayna the life she's used to. Rayna don't care about none of that, but Tandy does.'

'You ain't dumb.'

'Yeah, but she don't see that. She only just tolerates me playin' guitar for Rayna, hell she thinks I'm pushin' my luck doin' that, even. And shit, when she tells Lamar, oh man. He'll have me shipped a clear continent away from Rayna and locked up so I can never get back to her.'

He shot back onto his feet, the panic back on his face and the pacing resuming. Vince screwed up his nose; he couldn't offer much in the way of comforting words when it came to Lamar Wyatt. He tried anyway though, ever the optimist.

'They just need to get to know you, Deac. You're the most decent guy I ever met, and Rayna clearly agrees with me, and then some.'

'You don't know Lamar. I mean I don't either, only by reputation - I've only met him that one time when he showed up at the house lookin' for Rayna right after she came to live with us. Thought he was gonna burn the fuckin' place down that night to smoke her out. That was enough of an introduction to know he ain't gonna be at all happy about this.'

Vince winced, that night vivid in his mind too. 'Yeah… you and Rayna should probably start keepin' your passports in your back pocket in case you need to flee the country at short notice.'

Deacon sighed, sinking down again and letting his head fall into his hands. 'This is bad.'

'They were always gonna find out at some point, man. It's just sooner than you'd have liked.'

' _Never_ would be sooner than I'd have liked.'

'Maybe Tandy won't tell him? Hey maybe I can persuade her, if you know what I mean…'

Deacon looked at Vince, staring at him for a few seconds during which he waggled his eyebrows so much the cigarette almost fell out of the corner of his mouth. 'We're screwed.'

/

Tandy waited until the right moment for her talk with Deacon. She didn't say a word when she and Rayna returned to the venue, or during the few minutes she was left face to face with him when Rayna ran off to change before they went on stage. She stared him down all through the entirety of the set from her perch in the front row, not a hint of a smile on her face, and she had to admit watching him sweat was rather satisfying. She particularly relished the distance he put between himself and Rayna for her benefit.

When Vince invited her to join them at the aftershow party in their hotel bar, citing the 'suits' being present as a marker of the level of civilisation she could expect, she declined, informing Deacon they were going to take a walk, the two of them. His gulp could have been seen from space, but he agreed, though he had no choice in the matter and he knew it. He didn't say anything as she stalked towards the exit, waiting for him to follow, and she saw him glance helplessly back at Rayna and his friends, no doubt silently signalling them to raise the alarm if he wasn't back by midnight.

'So,' she said finally when they were outside, opening her car door and pointing for him to get in, 'we're going to take a little detour before we go to your hotel. But I'm sure you've worked that out by now.'

Deacon nodded, trying to look like he wasn't terrified, and she smiled to herself, getting in the driver's side. The lake she drove to was deserted just as she'd hoped and she parked up in the darkest bit of the gravel lot surrounded by trees, making no move to get out when she turned the engine off.

'You're having relations with my sister,' she said, cutting to the chase, and he winced.

'Um… I… yeah,' he stuttered. 'Respectful relations, I promise. I only got her best intentions at heart.'

'Is that so?' Tandy swivelled to face him. She was enjoying herself; if only she had some dark sunglasses and a pistol to complete the effect. He nodded earnestly, and she felt the tiniest bit bad about being so hard on him. The tiniest bit.

'She's my best friend, ma'am. She means _everythin_ ' to me. I know I'm not who you'd choose to be her boyfriend and all, I know you think I'm not good enough for her, and I get that, but your sister is the most important thing in my whole life, and I intend on showin' her that every single day.'

'My sister is doing what she thinks she wants to do right now, this music thing, and maybe it will work out, maybe it won't - but at some point she's gonna come home, to her family, where she belongs. You and Rayna are from completely different worlds.'

'You ever stop to think maybe that's not such a bad thing?' Deacon said, and Tandy's eyes narrowed instantly. It didn't deter him though. 'With all due respect, your sister isn't like you, she isn't like your father - this _music_ thing, it's what's meant for her. This _is_ where she belongs.'

'And you think you're meant for her too, I assume?'

He nodded, not a second of hesitation. 'Yes ma'am, I do.'

'And what happens when you realise you can't give her what she needs? What happens when she's handed you her heart and you realise you don't have the capability to provide for her, to offer her the life she deserves?'

'Rayna don't need no fancy clothes and expensive cars, you know that if you're honest. She needs - and she deserves - music, and my love, and I can give her as much of those things as she could ever want for.'

Tandy, despite herself, softened a little for the second time that day, the glisten in his eyes and the sheer conviction of his words threatening to win her over. She could see why Rayna had fallen for him - it wasn't just his charm and his looks, the guy had his heart open and bleeding on his sleeve. She didn't like this thing between them, there was no question about that - Deacon Claybourne would never fit into their lifestyle, and he would certainly never be accepted by their father, but it was abundantly clear that he was genuine in his feelings for Rayna. And maybe, Tandy supposed, maybe that was something.

She twisted in her seat to look at him head on, her face serious as a hurricane. 'You better make damn sure you use a condom. Every time. In fact, use two. You hear me?'

###

'I'm not gonna say your sister's my biggest fan,' Deacon mused, popping a strawberry into his mouth and pulling the stalk out, 'but I think she's uncocked her rifle, for now at least. I'm pretty sure she's just glad it ain't Vince you're with.'

Rayna stretched out on the picnic blanket, the notebook on her lap wobbling. 'Aren't we all? We should have toyed with her, though - she'd have gone way easier on you if we'd made her think there was somethin' goin' on with me and Vince first. They would've smelled the relief all the way back in Nashville.'

Deacon grinned and plucked a few strings on his guitar. 'Maybe we shouldn't let her hear this new song, though.' He rifled to the latest page to refresh his memory of the lyrics they'd just written, brushing Rayna's knee as he did so. 'I think she'd have a thing or two to say about me _kissin' your bare skin_ …'

'Hmm, might be best not to add this one into our set list, huh?' she said, and he leaned over and pressed his lips to hers, nodding. 'Did she give you The Talk?'

'Ohh yeah, I got The Talk and then some. I felt like I was back in Sex Ed class.'

Rayna snickered, covering her face with her hands. 'I'm sorry babe, she's very… protective.'

'That is one way of puttin' it.' He adjusted his guitar and strummed the opening chords of the song. 'It's nice that she cares so much, Ray. Even if she is pretty terrifyin'.' She murmured along with his melody, eyes on his. 'She made me promise I'd never touch your ass in public again.'

Rayna couldn't help it, she erupted with laughter, the thought of Tandy lecturing him on that particular subject too much for her. She twisted onto her side, facing away from Deacon, and looked back at him over her shoulder. 'You're not gonna keep that promise are you?' she said, winking at him and waggling her butt.

He laughed from his belly, the sound spilling over the edge of the hillside they were sat on and bouncing off the rocks below. They could see for miles across the sprawling city, the wide open Texas sky baby-boy blue above them. 'I had my fingers crossed behind my back when I agreed to it,' he confessed, reaching out and caressing her ass, giving it an indulgent squeeze.

'That's my guy,' Rayna said, delighting when his fingers found their way up her short, floaty skirt and under the edge of her panties. He cupped her ass again, her skin warm in his hands. and leaned over to kiss her; his guitar was discarded moments later, the punnet of strawberries pushed blindly aside.

Between them, the notebook dropped onto the blanket and wedged itself against their legs; Rayna reached down and retrieved it, pulling herself from Deacon's lips.

'This book is like a journal of this tour,' she said. 'It's a journal of us, Deacon, gettin' right here to this moment.' She looked up at him. 'These songs, they start with us tip-toeing around each other, hidin' our feelings, and they move through everythin' we've been through the past few weeks, all these new, excitin', scary feelings.'

Deacon tucked her hair behind her ear, looking down at her with eyes full of feeling. 'These are some precious pages, baby. And we got a million more notebooks to fill, you and me.'

###

Some nights on tour, they'd discovered, were heavy with partying, a one way street to a hell of a hangover. Some were spent mixing with music industry bigwigs and journalists who called themselves by their initials and wore glasses with no lenses. Others were for catching up on sleep, desperately trying to recover from road food and late nights in time to keep up with whatever the next day would bring.

And some were about shitty movies and an unhealthy amount of hot butter popcorn.

It was another overnighter, to Deacon's joy; he loved when they got to sleep on the bus. The more seasoned crew members and bands weren't so fond of travelling through the night, complaining they didn't sleep properly, or their bandmate snored. Maybe it was the novelty, maybe it was just the life for him, but Deacon had never slept as well as he did on the bus.

Of course, a large part of that was thanks to Rayna. A very large part. He was amazed at how quickly and seamlessly they'd adapted to their new dynamic, at the way everything about his new life had blended together - he didn't know where the distinction was between Rayna and the music, the stage, the ouroboros wheels of the bus. Falling asleep with her in his arms was the greatest peace he'd ever known.

'There are four of you,' she was protesting, flicking kernels of popcorn up into the air and catching them impressively in her mouth. 'Four guys and one girl - y'all are gonna make me watch a guy movie, I know it.'

'Pity Barb can't watch while she's drivin' - she'd count for at least three more girls to even the playing field,' Vince said, intercepting a flying piece of popcorn and shoving it triumphantly in his mouth.

'I heard that, Jameson,' Barb called from up front, flipping him the bird in her rearview mirror.

Kennedy got up and rifled through the VCRs they'd brought with them and acquired from some of the others on the tour - the road was like a travelling video store. 'Alright, we got Top Gun, we got Raging Bull, Blade Runner, The Terminator... Caddyshack?'

'Or we could watch The Breakfast Club,' Rayna interjected, looking longingly at the video tape nestled among the others.

'A chick flick? Hell no. There is a reason I'm single - so I don't have to watch that shit.' Kennedy waved Top Gun about hopefully.

Vince snorted. 'Funny, I thought you were single 'cause no girl would have you.'

'Oh come on now,' Rayna said, 'The Breakfast Club is not a chick flick. It is a classic movie of our generation.' She sipped on her orange soda. 'Y'all are obviously insecure about your masculinity, but hey, if you need to watch a movie about guns and fightin' to validate your penises, I won't judge you...'

Deacon laughed, settling in beside Rayna and tugging a blanket off the couch behind him. They'd made a den on the floor out of cushions and the duvets off their beds so they'd all be able to see the little portable television, and naturally he'd nabbed the spot next to her, intending to enjoy her proximity as much as he could without anyone noticing. She looked adorable in her pyjama shorts, a hoodie thrown loosely over her tank top.

'Okay, I've got it.' Jimmy jumped up, holding a VCR aloft. 'The Shining.'

'You good with a horror movie Ray?' Deacon asked, knowing how she always slept with the light on whenever they put one on at home, not that she'd ever admit it.

'It has Jack Nicholson in it - how scary can it be?' she replied, not entirely convinced all the same. 'Do your magic, Jimmy, fire it up.'

Deacon could tell she regretted it not five minutes in. She stiffened under the blanket he'd thrown over them both, her foot finding his for solace rather than flirtation, and he smiled to himself, shifting so he was just close enough to be able to rub her socked toes reassuringly with his.

'Jack Nicholson's kinda terrifying,' she whispered, burrowing her fingers into the popcorn bowl without daring to take her eyes from the little screen, in case he jumped out and lunged for her, maybe.

Distraction, Deacon figured, was not only far more fun than the movie, but his duty to Rayna as her boyfriend, a title that thrilled him every time he thought about it. He pulled the blanket up a little, checking that everyone else's eyes were on the television, and found her knee with his hand. She jumped a fraction but kept her eyes ahead, and he saw her mouth turn up into a smile. When he started to rub his fingers over her skin she dared to sneak him a glance, and he couldn't have told anyone what the rest of that damn movie was about if his life had depended on it.

He inched closer to her and she abandoned the popcorn bowl to slip her hand discreetly under the covers; she twisted it upwards and he traced circles on it, touching the pads of his fingers to her palm and feeling the electricity zing between them. It amazed him how much such a simple touch could affect him; her too, judging by the little shivers she was giving.

They were halfway through the movie when he realised Kennedy was peering at them, and Deacon gave him a look of casual nonchalance, but he didn't seem to buy it. His eyes drifted to the middle of the blanket and glanced over Rayna - she saw it too and stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth, tipping her head to the side as though greatly engrossed in whatever the hell was going on on the screen, and Kennedy turned his attention back to the movie a moment or two later.

There was something about sitting so close to her, about holding her hand, when they were surrounded by everyone else, that made Deacon's heart race. He found himself wondering how he would get away with slipping into her room after the movie finished, and he glanced at the guys, hoping to see some signs of them starting to drift off to sleep, but they were glued to the action.

'Heeeere's Johnny!' Jack Nicholson screeched, and Rayna jumped, her hands flying to her mouth, Deacon laughed affectionately and reached over, pulling up her hood and tugging it over her hair. She turned her head to him and he tugged on the toggles, cocooning her in the material so only a little of her face was visible, and she gave him a goofy squished up grin. He felt his heart contract so much that it was almost impossible not to lean in and kiss her, and he knew one of these days he wouldn't be able to hold himself back.

'I swear,' Rayna said when the credits rolled, 'I'm never watchin' a movie with you people again. No way I'm gonna sleep tonight.'

Vince leaned forward. 'You, Rayna, are the perfect scary movie date - I'd be right there feelin' you up on the back row when you got all jumpy. You're my dream girl, baby.'

Deacon laughed as Rayna jabbed a finger at Vince, tugging down her hood. 'Guys think they've got girls all figured out,' she said, 'but you're wrong, gentlemen. Your chances would be a whole lot better if you took us to see a good movie. We might actually think you were interestin', and not just in it for the boob-graze while someone's bein' hacked up.'

'Would I still get away with a boob-graze if I took you to see The Breakfast Club?' Vince asked, and Rayna looked like she was pretending to consider such a thing.

'It depends - would you also be pretendin' I was Molly Ringwald?'

'Would I get a slap if I was? 'Cause yeah, in that case.' He offered her his cheek, his eyes shut blissfully.

'You're hopeless,' she laughed, patting him on it and shoving a piece of popcorn up his nostril. He blew it out and ate it, grinning at her suggestively.

'Wanna put that VCR on and we'll see how far I get?'

/

Halfway into the movie and all three guys were asleep, light snores drowning out a heartfelt speech from Molly Ringwald.

'Looks like you were right,' Deacon whispered, his arm around Rayna and his hand skating up the side of her breast, 'this kinda movie really does get a guy further.'

'Told you.' She dared to kiss him fleetingly, and he leaned in towards her, chasing her lips. She grinned, allowing him to catch them and darting her tongue into his mouth.

'Think we might need to miss the ending,' she said, sliding her hand up the inside leg of his jeans, and he smiled.

'How will we know what happens?'

'Well, I could tell you. Or,' she gasped as he bit on her earlobe, 'I could let you feel me up in my bedroom.'

'Oh yeah? I got a choice, huh?'

'Mmhmm.'

'Hmm,' Deacon mused, his tongue swirling around the inside of her ear, 'tricky. I really _do_ want to know if they get that essay done.'

Rayna giggled, shoving him playfully and getting up, careful to be quiet. Deacon jumped to his feet and took her hand, following her into her room and pulling his bunk curtain closed on the way so it looked like he'd gone to sleep.

'So Claire and Bender get it on, right?' he asked, walking her backwards towards her bed once the door was safely closed behind them.

'You pretendin' to care about a girly movie to get me to put out, Claybourne?'

'Is it workin'?'

She unzipped her hoodie and dropped it to the floor, her tank top following. 'Does it look like it's workin'?'

Deacon's lip curled, his eyes darkening as he looked down at her lace bra, sheer enough for her nipples to be visible. 'It looks like I'm one hell of a lucky bastard, is what it looks like.'

Rayna sat on the bed looking up at him and he leaned down, taking his face in her hands and kissing her; they fell backwards in a tangle, Deacon quickly shedding his t-shirt with her help. Clothes were becoming increasingly an annoyance, and their make-out sessions were getting less and less restrained, any layers that got in their way mere obstacles that needed to be dealt with swiftly. It was about intimacy as much as their raging hormones; some nights they laid in Rayna's bed whispering about all the things that could only be said in the darkness of night, barely a stitch between them but sweet kisses and gentle touches as far as they took it. There was something exquisitely powerful, they were discovering, in the most simple way, about laying in each other's arms skin to skin.

And then there were the other occasions.

'You think Kennedy's onto us?' Rayna rasped as Deacon tugged on her shorts and sent them flying across the room, his mouth never leaving her collarbone.

'I think he's wonderin'.' He moved to her bra strap, biting on it in a way that made her squirm underneath him. 'I'm shocked the guys haven't figured it out by now. I've spent almost every night in your bed - either I'm that good or they're kinda blind.'

He lifted his head and she trailed her foot up the back of his leg. 'Take your pants off, Deacon,' she commanded, and he braced himself over her.

'You tryin' to get me to put out, Jaymes?'

She laughed into his kiss and before he could take them off himself, Rayna reached down and unbuckled his belt. The moment wasn't lost on either of them; she'd never been the one to take off his jeans before, and it felt like a bold move on her part, her hands fumbling just a little. She got the belt out of its hooks and found his zipper, pulling it down slowly and holding eye contact with him as she did.

'I'm gonna take that as a yes,' he murmured, and she slid her hands into the denim and found his ass, just to make it doubly clear. She pushed the jeans off his hips and he helped her get them down his legs, grinning as they clunked off the bed onto the floor.

He kissed her deeply, letting himself rest on top of her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, winding her fingers into his hair. She felt her nipples pucker and brush against his chest, and if there was one thing she had learned quickly about Deacon, it was that he was a complete goner when it came to her breasts. He was a goner when it came to all of her, but she had teased him day after day with low-cut tops and bending just a little too far forward in his vicinity, and she saw exactly what it did to him every time.

'Shit,' he breathed, rubbing himself against her chest and nipping on her lower lip. He kissed his way down her neck, his finger tracing the edge of her bra. 'I like this.' He drew a circle around one of her nipples, the cream fabric pale against her sunkissed summer skin. 'I like this a _lot_.' When he lowered his head and sucked on her through the lace, humming in the back of his throat, she sent up a silent thanks to whoever invented such an amenable material.

Deacon, she was discovering, was completely transparent in his intense attraction to her. She loved the way he looked when he was really hungry for her, which was something of a constant state, and how he didn't hide his enthusiasm for the things that really did it for him. He almost drooled every time she wore short shorts, and his reaction to a particular pair of panties she owned that were soft pale silk had made her immediately vow to buy more of them when they got home. She found it such a turn on that an innocent lace bra, not chosen to be sexy, could have such an effect on him simply because it was her wearing it.

His fingers found their way into her panties, her legs falling open of their own will. This all felt so natural with him, every new step exciting and with each line they crossed, Rayna found herself craving more. If she was any more turned on by him she was sure she wouldn't be able to breathe. He kissed her as he eased his fingers inside her, and she couldn't help the moan she let out, though it was thankfully muffled by his lips.

She couldn't have described what he did to her, she just knew it felt _fucking_ good, his fingers finding places she'd never found herself in her tentative explorations of her body. It was sweet sweet torture, slow and a little deeper than the first time, and she found herself panting, one hand gripping his hair.

'Deacon,' she heard herself mewl, and if it sounded like a plea he heeded it; his fingers moved faster, and when she started to arch off the bed he did the thing she had not stopped aching for since the night at the pool. How the hell he knew to find the spot that scorched every nerve ending in her body was beyond her, but he hooked his fingers inside her and stroked it with the perfect amount of pressure, again, again, again until she couldn't feel anything but the most acute rush of breathless pleasure.

When she opened her eyes he was looking down at her, his lips pressing kisses to the tip of her nose. She laughed in sheer release, her heart still racing, and reached up to stroke his jaw.

'How do you _do_ that?' she asked, and he smiled.

'You make it easy, Ray. I love watchin' you. I've never seen anythin' so beautiful in all my life.'

Rayna felt a blush creep across her skin and she relished it; he made her feel like a girl and a woman all at the same time, so patient and so gentle with her but so raw in his sexuality that she was startled by the intense response of her own. It felt like an awakening, like she was learning about her own desires embodied by him.

She looked up at him, filled with such love she thought she might melt right through the mattress. There was something else in his expression and she knew what it was. They'd been going steadily further, but Deacon was the experienced one, and he was so intent on making sure she was comfortable that he'd focused only on her, not wanting her to feel like she needed to do anything she wasn't sure about.

She _was_ sure though that she wanted to make him feel the way he made her feel. The look in his eyes was of near-painful need, as much as he tried to hold it back, and she wanted to do something about it.

She lifted herself onto her elbows and gave him a light push. He let her guide him onto his back and she shifted so she was laid next to him, trailing her hand over his impressive chest. 'They don't do the essay,' she whispered sexily into his ear, and she felt him chuckle.

She kissed his chest and her hand brushed across his stomach, lower and lower until she found the waistband of his boxers, her fingernail scraping back and forth across it. She looked up at Deacon; he was watching her intently, his eyes flickering from her hand to her face, his thumb making little patterns on her hipbone.

With a deep breath she dipped her hand under the elastic and his eyes widened. When her fingers found his flesh his mouth dropped open and she was sure he held his breath; she moved lower and closed her hand around him, astonished by how he felt. His skin was soft and smooth, not what she'd expected, and he was hard, really hard. His penis jumped a little in her hand and she smiled up at him, delighting in his reactions.

' _Baby_ ,' he groaned, and she'd never heard his voice sound quite that way, 'you don't have to-'

'Shh,' she interrupted, 'I want to.'

His head dropped back onto the pillow and Rayna felt a surge of power; she had him, quite literally, in the palm of her hand, staring at her with such raw want that she had to press her lips together to stop herself from moaning.

She slid her hand upwards, her fingers inquisitive, the feel of him sliding through them sending shocks through her, and she brushed her thumb over his tip, revelling in acquainting herself with his shape and curves. Deacon breathed raggedly through his nose, his fingers digging into her hip, his eyes never leaving her, and she leaned in to kiss him. His other hand flew into her hair and he kissed her back feverishly, his breath coming in heavy pants.

'These need to come off,' she said, letting go of him momentarily and lifting his boxers up and over his hips. He raised his ass to let her pull them off completely and when Rayna looked down at him she lost her battle against controlling herself, a low, strangled moan escaping from her. He was stunning, completely naked and completely gorgeous, his penis straining towards her. She hadn't ever gone this far with a boy before, but she'd seen a few penises in non-sexual situations, and once when a boy she was dating in high school decided to unzip his pants while they were making out in his BMW on the way back from a distinctly average date. She'd been horrified and had told him just where he could shove it, right before she'd jumped out of his car and stalked off to call a cab. She'd thought they were strange things, kind of ugly and more than a little intimidating.

Deacon's, however, was another story entirely. She was immediately struck by how beautiful it was, by how much she was drawn to it, not at all intimidated. Her hands itched to touch him, and as she reached for him again without obstruction, she found herself so horny she almost asked him to throw all caution to the wind and have her right there and then. Instead, she watched her hand move up and down his length, her thumb rolling over his tip each time she reached it. When she felt moisture seep from it she rubbed her legs together tightly, smoothing it over him and loving how it felt on her palm. Deacon was panting so hard he could barely get a word out, only her name, over and over, interspersed with curses.

'Tell me what you like,' she asked him, looking into his hooded eyes.

'Oh _fuck_ Ray,' he hissed, kissing her hard. 'I like exactly what you're doin' baby. I _love_ what you're doin'.'

'Show me,' she pressed, 'show me how you do this to yourself.'

He clenched his jaw at her words, aroused beyond all control, and his hand closed over hers. She let him move her fingers up and down, squeezing him a little tighter under his grip, and he twisted her hand slightly when he reached his tip. She did as he showed her and he let go of her hand, his eyes rolling back in his head; she carried on, speeding up a little, sure she felt him grow even harder.

'Deacon,' she said into his ear, in awestruck observation rather than inflammation, 'it's so _big_.' She stared at her fingers, at how they were unable to meet around the size of him, and bit her lip so hard it hurt.

' _Jesus_ ,' he growled, at her words, at the desire dripping from her voice as she shared them with him, at what she was doing to him.

His hand flew to her breast and closed around it, and he pulled her to him and buried his mouth in her neck; what happened next Rayna would never cease to be amazed by. Deacon, his hips moving with her strokes, shuddered against her, jerking into her hand as he exploded and gasping her name roughly into her skin. It was beyond anything Rayna had ever seen, and as he held her tight, his breath rapid, she felt like she might cry from the wonder of it all.

'Baby,' was all he could say for a few minutes. 'My _God_ , baby.'

They lay together, his hand smoothing up and down her back, her lips pressing kisses into the crook of his neck until he could raise his head to look at her.

'You are somethin' else, Ray,' he said, his whole face slack with pleasure, the look of need she realised now that he'd been wearing for a long time replaced with sated awe. 'Damn, baby.'

'That was… _wow_ , Deacon.' She broke into a smile and he joined her, their faces close together, adrenaline lapsing into soft kisses that Rayna felt all the way through her body.

'Kinda messy, huh?' he said when they'd calmed, and she looked down at him, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter, her eyes sparkling with the joy she felt. Deacon chuckled with her, reaching across the bed to retrieve his t-shirt and using it to sort himself out.

He wrapped his arms around her, unable to be far from her for more than a few seconds, and she nestled into him and kissed his cheek. Outside the room a pair of tired feet shuffled to bed, but Deacon held her regardless, any notion of him sneaking out to get into his bunk a million miles away.

#

When Rayna woke it was still dark, and the bus was in silence other than the constant whirr of the wheels. Deacon stirred too, in tune with her even in sleep, and she turned onto her side to face him, cooing in the back of her throat in contentment. He stroked her face, his expression thoughtful.

'That rumble,' he said quietly. 'Feels kinda funny when we're _not_ movin' now, huh?' She nodded, and he smoothed his thumb across her lips. 'Do you think we'll ever stop movin' now we've started Ray?'

'Do you want to?' she whispered, kissing the tip of his thumb. Deacon shook his head. 'Me either. Maybe we don't ever need to get off the road, not for long anyway. I don't think I'll know how to.'

'As long as we have each other, baby, we can be anywhere at all.'

She smiled at him, leaning up and kissing him softly.

He looked at her for a long time. 'Are you gonna stay, Ray, when we do get home? In the house?'

'Do you want me to?'

'Of course I want you to. I can't bear the thought of bein' away from you.' He brushed her hair back from her face, the backs of his fingers lingering on her cheek. 'I wanna spend every night like this, with you in my arms. And every mornin'. Hell, let's screw everythin' and do this all day long too. We can live off cans of cold spaghetti and love.'

'You already live off cold cans of spaghetti,' she teased, her eyes twinkling.

'And love,' he added, kissing her to prove his point.

###

'What town are you in now?' Katie asked, her voice a little muffled on the other end of the line.

Rayna scanned the horizon through the dirty phonebooth glass. 'Right now I have no idea,' she replied, seeing only a vast expanse of arid nothing. 'We're on our way to Phoenix though, somewhere between there and Texas.'

'I wish we could come see you again. We can't stop talkin' about it - you're the star of the diner, the customers ask after you every day.'

'Have you seen Mrs Miller from the next street over? How was her cataract operation?' Rayna asked. 'And Joe? Is he gonna lay off the double cheese pizzas like the doctor told him?'

'Oh you know Joe, same old, stubborn as a mule. Mrs Miller's doin' great though, they've even cleared her to drive her truck again.' One of them popped their gum. 'They've all been sayin' you gotta come perform in here when you get back, you and Deacon and the band.'

'How _is_ Deacon?' Annabelle asked eagerly, and Rayna could picture her jostling for the phone, clamouring for gossip. 'Still a dreamboat boyfriend? We can call him that now, right? Your boyfriend?'

She laughed lightly, smiling to herself. 'I guess you can, yeah, and Deacon is… Deacon.' She sighed, the marshmallow feeling stronger than ever.

'Give us updates, girl, tell us everythin'!' Katie called.

'She means what base have y'all got to,' Annabelle said, as though it needed clarifying. 'We're starved here, you gotta give us somethin' to talk about, Rayna. And hell, I will gladly spend my days talkin' about makin' out with Deacon Claybourne.'

Katie squeaked something in the background that sounded like 'You're terrible, Annie,' and Rayna shook her head in amusement, wishing they could be on the road with her.

'A lady doesn't kiss and tell.'

'I'm gonna take that as second,' Annabelle said. 'Am I right?' At Rayna's hesitation she gasped, closely followed by an echo from Katie. ' _Third_? Well hell, girl, good work!'

Rayna laughed, feeling somewhat hysterical just at the thought. Third base with Deacon - it made her dizzy in the best way. 'He said he wants to take it slow and do it right, just like you said he would, but… it's kinda hard to take it slow. I mean he's just so… I can't help myself, you know?'

'Oh I know, honey, I know!' Annabelle hollered, the bell above the front door of the diner tinkling in the distance.

'This is so excitin',' Katie said a little too loudly, and there was a crackling down the line. 'We've stretched the phone into the store room,' she went on conspiratorially a few moments later. 'Too many people wantin' their eggs - they can wait. So tell us details!'

'I can't! Y'all are makin' me blush.'

'Rayna, baby, it has been four damn months since I've had sex, and that was durin' halftime, between a beer top up and a bathroom break. Katie went on a date last week with a guy who had a combover. It is drier than the Sahara in here - we're livin' vicariously through you, you gotta give us somethin' before we start humpin' Joe and his belly overhang.'

Rayna screwed up her face, trying not to picture that particular scene. 'Okay, okay,' she conceded, leaning back against the glass. 'Let's just say, last night was the first time I've seen… you know.'

There was an urgent scuffle and the sound of a door closing, and Annabelle's voice was hilariously close to the phone when she spoke. 'You saw the goods?' she asked in a whispered rush and Rayna covered her mouth, laughter threatening to spill out.

'Mmhmm. I mean I've felt it before, sort of anyway, with clothes on, but I've never… touched it. And last night...well.'

'You must have been Mother freakin' Teresa in a past life, Rayna. I need to go say some Hail Marys, I'm havin' hot flushes over this.'

She twisted the phone cord around her finger, smiling uncontrollably. 'It was a _night_.' She paused, chewing on a fingernail. 'There's one thing I'm kinda worried about though.'

'What honey?' Katie asked.

She thought for a second, waiting for the truck outside to rumble noisily by. 'It's... big, y'all. I mean, a whole lot bigger than I'd expected.'

There was a crashing sound on the other end of the line, and Rayna was pretty sure Annabelle had dropped the phone for a second. 'Dear sweet baby Jesus,' she muttered when she gathered herself. 'I knew it, I knew he was blessed. I can tell by how he swaggers. How big are we talkin'?'

' _Big_. I know I don't really have any experience with this kinda stuff, but I'm pretty sure most guys aren't so… lucky.'

'Most _girls_ aren't so lucky either, sweetie - you are in for one hell of a treat.'

'Am I? I mean... ' Rayna lowered her voice, regardless that she was at a deserted truck stop and everyone else was indoors eating a grease-laden breakfast. 'What if when we, you know, what if it doesn't fit?'

There was a murmur of reassuring, if rather breathless, sound in her ear, and Katie was the one who won the phone battle. 'Oh it will, it is the most natural thing in the world, you'll see. He's just gonna need to take it slow with you and you'll be just fine.'

'And besides,' Annabelle interjected, 'you'll be havin' sex with _Deacon_ \- your panties will be runnin' for the hills before you can even worry about it.'

Rayna covered her face with her hands, dissolving into laughter. In the background, Old Billy yelled something about eggs getting cold enough to turn back into chickens, and she stood up straight.

'Y'all better go see to that,' she said, untangling the cord ready to hang up, 'I'll call you again real soon.'

'You make sure and tell us when this cherry's been popped, baby, you hear!' Annabelle called, and Katie wrestled her for the phone and bid their goodbyes.

For a moment Rayna stood with her hand on the receiver in its cradle. When she turned around, Deacon had emerged from the shabby roadside diner and was beaming at her, and she pushed open the door and headed for him, trying not to break into a skip.

###

The second of the Arizona shows was one of the best yet, the venue packed to the rafters and the crowd excitable. Deacon had never been to Phoenix before, and he had no idea it had such a country music market, but they played their set to eager ears and watched Randy's show from the wings on a high. The adrenaline was potent after every performance, but some nights it was untameable, and those were the nights they couldn't sleep until they'd blown off some steam.

They'd heard some friends from back home in Nashville were playing at a bar across town, and they had just enough time to cram into a couple of cabs to make it there, some of the crew and the other support joining them. Phoenix was sprawling, flanked by mountains that stretched for miles, and Deacon pressed his nose to window as they drove, Rayna's knee warm against his. She was in a cotton dress, short enough to toy with his self control, the swell of her cleavage calling his name.

After every show Rayna was transformed. The high she got from singing to a crowd was palpable, and it radiated from her all night afterwards. Deacon saw fire in her eyes every time she stepped onto a stage, and it turned to hunger the moment their set was over, a fierce need to get back to it the next night. He drank it in, addicted to what it did to her, the sheen it gave her skin, the almost dangerous twist of her lips.

He watched the city lights whizz by, listening to the chatter of his bandmates and the honk of horns from impatient drivers with somewhere mysterious to get to so late. When they arrived at the bar they piled in and found a space, the red-tinged lighting casting an ominous glow about the place. Their friends were last on the bill for the night, some guys Vince had worked with in one of his short-lived jobs a couple of years ago who'd hung out with them all over many a firepit jamming session.

They'd brought a new girl in to sing lead, and she had a decent voice, rockier than their old sound; Rayna tapped her foot on the stool next to Deacon as they played, sipping on her drink through a straw, and he tried to pay as much attention to the music as he did to the purse of her pretty lips. She threw him flirty glances here and there and he lapped them up, starved of her - it had been at least four hours since they'd managed to sneak a few minutes alone, and it was too much for Deacon.

'She's great with them,' Rayna said, leaning over to him, and he nodded, glancing at the girl and reaching for the bowl of nuts Vince had snagged from the bar.

'I ain't gonna lie, fellas, I want her,' Vince declared, popping open a fresh beer and leaning an elbow on their hightop table. 'She looks like she'd be kinky.'

'How do you figure?' Rayna asked, rolling her eyes.

'I don't even know - 'cause I'm an ass,' he conceded, snickering at himself and clinking his beer with her glass to commiserate or celebrate the fact. 'Sometimes even _I_ wanna slap me.'

By the time the band finished their set everyone was on the pleasant side of drunk, Deacon trying to work out how to get Rayna to follow him into a corridor he'd spied over by the bathrooms without anyone noticing. He was about to whisper the notion to her when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

'Deacon Claybourne,' the tall blonde girl said when he turned around. 'I've been dreamin' of you ever since you dumped me.'

His eyebrows nearly shot off his face when he saw who it was, and he heard Vince mutter something in surprise behind him. His whiskey buzz deflated - of all the damn places to bump into an ex, a clear three states away.

'Casey? What are you doin' here?'

The girl nodded towards the stage where the band were just heading down the stairs. 'Violet, their new lead singer, she's my roommate. This was her first night with them, I wanted to cheer her on.' She winked at him. 'Didn't imagine runnin' into you here - looks like I picked the right night to be a supportive friend.'

Deacon offered what he hoped was a weak smile but it came out more like a grimace. He'd dated Casey Johnson for six months or so a couple of years back, right before Rayna had come into his life, and she'd been seriously pissed at him when he'd broken up with her, telling him she thought he was the guy for her, that he'd stomped on her heart, a sentiment he couldn't understand seeing as he'd felt distinctly lukewarm about their relationship, if you could call it that.

'Casey,' Vince said, standing and giving her an obligatory brief - and stiff - hug. 'You're in Arizona.'

'Vince,' she returned, equally as enthused, 'I sure am.'

Behind Deacon, Rayna was watching the scenario with wary interest, and he turned to her, apology all over his face.

'You're that girl,' Casey proclaimed, stretching around him before he could offer Rayna an explanation as to who she was. 'I remember you. You sang with my boyfriend, if I'm not mistaken.' She made no effort to hide her disdain at that particular memory, and Deacon remembered how drunk and screechy she'd gotten the first night she'd seen him and Rayna on stage together at a bar downtown. 'Of course he wasn't my boyfriend for much longer, so I don't think we ever officially met.'

'Well, hi,' Rayna said politely with a little wave of her hand.

'We're still singin' together,' Deacon interjected, trying not to frown too sourly at Casey's tone. 'Rayna got a slot on Randy Travis' tour. We're her band.' He was full of pride at Rayna's blooming success and Casey didn't miss it, looking between the two of them with narrowed eyes.

'Well isn't that sweet,' she snarled. Her friend Violet appeared a moment later and interrupted whatever else she would have said, and Deacon found himself engulfed with man hugs from the band. They took it in turns scooping Rayna up to greet her too, much to Casey's displeasure.

'Nashville takin' over Phoenix,' one of the guys called, lifting up a tray of shots and scuppering Deacon's hopes. 'We gotta show this town how it's done, y'all.'

'Don't think you're escapin' from me that easily,' Casey drawled at him when he tried to edge away, and she reached for his arm, making no play for subtlety when she rubbed his bicep. 'I cried for months over you - you owe me. You gotta have a drink with me, at least.'

He pulled himself out of her clutches and cleared his throat, not at all sure what to do, but before he could act she dragged a stool from another table and moved it beside his. She was all boobs and ass in her short dress, just like she had been when he'd dated her, nothing left to the imagination, and he turned towards Rayna on his other side. His heart sank when he saw her face as she watched Casey cross her legs towards him, and he scowled, wishing he could just take Rayna's hand and up and leave the bar, but their friends were on a high after their gig and it was a rarity that they were crossing paths for this one night. He knew it would look rude, not to mention suspicious, if the two of them disappeared.

'So, Deacon's in your band,' Casey said, draping herself all too deliberately across him to address Rayna.

'Yeah, he is.'

She swept her hair over her shoulder. 'Deacon used to tell me how he'd moved to Nashville to make it on his own. Standin' behind someone else wasn't exactly on his agenda - guess he changed his mind.'

Rayna frowned, shooting him a look he couldn't decipher. 'Actually we sing _together_ a lot. Side by side.'

'Is that right?' Casey eyed the glass Rayna lifted to her lips, a look passing over her face that Deacon didn't like at all. 'Are you old enough to drink, sweetie?'

There was a beat of silence as Rayna raised her eyebrows slowly at Casey.

'I'm goin' to the bathroom,' she said, ignoring the question, and Deacon watched her helplessly, feeling like a complete dick.

'So,' Casey said, as though an obstacle was out of the way and she could claim him for herself, 'wanna get out of here?'

'No, I don't,' he shot, and he stood and hurried towards the bathrooms without so much as a second thought.

He didn't find Rayna, though, and when he'd waited outside the ladies' for so long he started to get funny looks, he gave up and slunk towards the bar, careful to avoid their group. He was ordering two whiskeys, one for himself and one for Rayna, when he saw he across the room. She was talking to a couple of guys from the band, and when she caught his eye she looked away, much to his dismay.

'You're an idiot, Claybourne,' he told himself under his breath, dropping a tip on the bar and grabbing their drinks.

When he reached her she was deep in conversation about the tour, filling their friends in on the highs and lows and excitement of being on the road with a major artist. He handed her a glass in a sort of offering, trying to tell her with his eyes that he was sorry he hadn't rescued her from Casey, and she took it, giving him a smile and bumping his shoulder. He felt his tension drain instantly and thanked his lucky stars that with all the Caseys in the world, he'd managed to find himself someone as unbelievable as Rayna Jaymes. It still astounded him that she even looked his way, let alone that she was just as crazy about him as he was about her, and he bumped her shoulder back, loving how she chuckled.

'You're lookin' good these days Deac,' their friend Adrian said, looking at him approvingly. 'Never seen you so relaxed.'

Deacon caught the coy smile on Rayna's lips as she dipped them to her glass, and he grinned so hard his jaw ached. 'Life is good, that's for damn sure.'

'Is it the music or a girl puttin' that smile on your face, man?'

Rayna tilted her face to the side, pretending to wait for his answer. 'I ain't sure there's a difference anymore,' he said, not taking his eyes from hers.

Adrian cocked an eyebrow at him and flung a dreadlock out of his face. 'I take it you ain't talkin' about Casey, then, right? Not a musical bone in that girl's body, unless you count all the times she's screwed you.' He glanced towards where she was loudly telling Vince about some escapade.

'No, definitely not.' Deacon said quickly, looking at Rayna and willing Adrian not to say anything else that would make her uncomfortable, but it didn't work.

'I ain't even met the girl until a few months ago and she's told me all kinds of shit I'd rather not know. Once she figured out we were buddies with you she spilled all the gory details - somethin' about a long night in a hot tub? Dude, you got some stamina.' He missed Deacon's panic face and snickered, lifting up his drink in a misguided toast, and Deacon felt like he wanted to sink right through the floor.

He turned to Rayna, Adrian still laughing at his anecdote, and saw her smile had disappeared completely.

'Would you excuse me?' she said politely, very pointedly not addressing Deacon. 'I need to get some air.'

'Was it somethin' I said?' Adrian asked, staring after her as she disappeared into the mass of revellers. When Deacon didn't answer he swivelled to look at him and his eyes widened at his expression.

'Oh,' he said as it dawned on him, 'oh shit. _Rayna's_ the girl?'

Deacon stayed quiet, chewing the inside of his cheek and trying to decide whether she would want him to go after her. He figured she probably wouldn't be thrilled to see him now that she had the unfortunate image of him in a hot tub with another girl imprinted in her mind, and he dropped onto a stool.

'Can I get another one?' he asked the barman.

/

'Rayna?'

She looked up from the creaky picnic table to see Vince walking towards her, two glasses in his hands. He held one out to her and she took it, tasting rum and coke, easy on the coke. 'Thanks.'

'You doin' okay?' He tilted his head and peered at her, and she was momentarily pissed at him for no apparent reason.

'I'm doin' fine, Vince.'

He nodded and dropped onto the bench next to her. 'Really, 'cause you look like you're havin' a shitty night.'

She laughed and looked away from him, staring out across the parking lot.

'You a little jealous there, doll?'

'Of what? Of the six foot blonde who seems hellbent on getting her claws back into Deacon?' She knocked back a generous swallow of her drink. 'Oh no, I'm not jealous at all.'

Vince nudged her with his knee. 'Rayna you know he doesn't even see her. He's been staring at you all night - if he could get his hands on you in front of everyone he'd give himself whiplash.' He shook his head. 'I saw how Deac was when he was datin' Casey, and believe me, it wasn't anythin' like how he is with you. That girl would call him five times a day and he'd get me to tell her he wasn't even in the damn house.'

Rayna lifted an eyebrow, amusement creeping around the edges of her insecurity. 'Brutal.'

'He was sure as hell not writin' songs about her and creepin' into her bed every night.'

'You know about that?'

'Please, y'all aren't nearly as discreet as you think you are.'

She laughed, blushing. 'You don't think he still has a thing for her, do you?'

'Doll, he didn't even have a thing for her when they were together. Sure she's pretty hot and all, but she was the one who did all the chasin', Deac let her down easy right after he met you - you don't think that's a coincidence, do you?'

She picked at a loose chip of wood at the edge of the table, chewing on her lip. 'Can I ask you a question Vince?'

'Sure, as long as it ain't about that enema I had to have last year. That was an awkward moment in my life I'd rather forget.'

'Adrian said somethin' about Deacon spendin' a night in a hot tub with Casey,' she muttered, wincing at the image all over again. 'Did they, I mean… they had a lot of sex, right? Kinda seems like it?'

Vince leaned an elbow on the table, looking at her carefully. 'I guess, when she could pin him down to actually seein' her.' He pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and wedged one between his lips. 'That botherin' you?'

Rayna shrugged, trying not to show him how much it actually did bother her, but it was Vince, he saw right through her. 'I just… I know Deacon's a whole lot more experienced than I am, and he's bein' patient with me. I'm not stupid, I know he's done stuff with other girls and I guess I'm just worried that, you know, that I won't be… as good. That he'll be disappointed, after all this waiting.'

Vince, to Rayna's confusion, laughed loudly. She frowned at him, baffled by his reaction. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and pointed at her with the end of it. 'The two of you need your heads bumpin' together. He's worried about disappointin' you, you're worried about disappointin' him. Y'all need to just have the sex, get down to it, bone your worries away.' He shook his head. 'Believe me, Rayna, Deac could have spent a fuckin' year in a hot tub and it wouldn't come close to even one kiss with you. You've turned my best buddy soft, doll, and I love you for it. This thing you have with him, it fuckin' means somethin'.'

She smiled tremulously, knowing he spoke the truth. 'Thanks Vince.'

He stood up, holding out his hand to her. 'Come on. We're goin' back inside, and you are not gonna give Casey Johnson, or any other girl, another thought.'

#

Rayna leaned against the doorframe of Deacon's room in the hotel, watching him hurry towards her. The doorman had declared a lock-in at the bar, but she'd done the rounds chatting with their friends and had left before them, telling them she was tired. She'd stayed away from Deacon the rest of the night, but she'd given him a wink from across the room to let him know they were good, and he'd seemed to understand she needed a bit of space. When she'd headed to leave he'd been busting out a lively song on someone's guitar, steering well clear of Casey, and she'd smiled to herself as she'd hailed a cab.

'Baby,' he said, worried, 'I've been lookin' for you everywhere.' He reached out for her but she stayed where she was.

'I just felt like comin' back to the hotel.'

'Ray, I'm real sorry about Casey, her showin' up was a complete surprise to me, and that shit Adrian said - you didn't need to hear that. I wish we hadn't gone tonight, I'm so sorry.'

Rayna shook her head, lifting a hand to his chest. 'It's okay, babe. You weren't to know she'd be there, and you have nothin' to be sorry for, you really don't.'

'It's not okay, baby,' he said, stepping closer to her. 'I feel terrible. And I hated not bein' able to say I'm with you - all I wanted to do was take you in my arms and show that whole damn place that there ain't no one for me but you.'

She looked up at him, smoothing her hand over the muscles she could feel under his plaid shirt. 'Take me in your arms _now_ ,' she said in a low voice. 'I wanna go inside, Deacon.'

He saw the look in her eyes and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. 'Inside, into my room?' She nodded. 'But Vince…'

'Vince has gone to a club with some girls from the bar. And besides,' she said directly into his ear, 'it's hot knowin' we could get caught, don't you think?'

Deacon tensed his jaw in that way he did when he was trying to stop himself pulling her down to the floor with him right there and then, and fished his key out of the pocket of his jeans. 'Everythin' is hot with you,' he said, scrambling to turn the lock, 'I'll do anythin' you want, baby, anywhere.'

They fell into the room, kissing frantically, Deacon's arms firmly around Rayna as they stumbled backwards. It was messier than her room, in a guy way, shoes and guitars slung wherever they'd landed, and something about it made her even hornier. He was her guy, Casey Johnson be damned, and she knew it, but it couldn't hurt to have him show her anyway.

' _Anythin_ ' I want?' she purred, and Deacon brushed his two-day stubble across her neck.

'Anythin' at all, baby.'

She pulled away from him and gave him a devilish smile, walking past Vince's unmade bed towards his. The sheets were crumpled, but he'd made a vague effort to straighten them that morning after a rare night they'd spent apart, and she sat down, looking up at him and considering her next move.

'I want you to take my dress off,' she told him, kicking her shoes aside.

He obeyed immediately, dropping to his knees before her and peeling the loose cotton up her thighs; she raised her hips and he pushed it above them, grasping the hem and lifting it over her head. His eyes flickered over her bra and panties and he climbed onto the edge of the bed like a cat, straddling her. He silently held her gaze as he unclasped her bra, dragging the straps down her arms, and she felt cool air on her breasts as he bared them and licked his lips.

'Panties,' she breathed, and his eyes widened. 'I want you to take off my panties.'

Deacon Claybourne was a lot of things. A fool was not one of them. He kissed her as he urged her onto her back, and his fingers were on the thin fabric of her panties in seconds, dipping into them just enough to tease the sensitive skin below her hipbones. He peeled the waistband down just a little, and when she pulled on his bottom lip with her teeth, he grasped them. They were flimsy, easy to slide off her, and he clearly revelled in doing so; Rayna watched his face as he sat back on his haunches and slowly brought them down her legs, his eyes dark, following their path. He tossed them to the floor and dared to look at her, her legs slightly parted, and a deep moan rumbled from the back of his throat.

'Ray,' he whispered roughly, no other words necessary.

She held her breath as his eyes raked over her body, and when he leaned down to kiss her she went straight for his shirt, too impatient for buttons. He helped her to yank it over his head, and they both reached for his jeans, Rayna pulling down his zip as he popped the button. They paused for only a moment, an unspoken agreement passing between them, before she pushed his boxers over his ass and kicked them across the bed.

With no clothing between them, they let their bodies move against each other's, the heat building dizzyingly. Deacon's hands drifted over Rayna's breasts, his mouth following, and she pushed herself up against him, delirious with the need for more. His fingers moved lower and dipped inside her, and she bit his shoulder, his neck, his tongue.

'Oh _God_ Deacon.' She felt him hard against her hip, cool and hot at the same time, and he ground himself into her, their kisses losing control, his fingers leaving her as he threw his hand onto the bed to steady himself. He pushed her legs wider apart with his knees and she thought she would combust when his penis brushed against her; he slid it through her folds and she lifted her hips to get closer, anything to increase the friction, her fingernails digging into his back.

For the most delicious of moments, Rayna felt his tip against her; there was a flash of pressure and he pushed it just a little inside her, sucking in his breath sharply and gripping her hip with one of his strong hands. Her eyes snapped shut, the sensation rushing through every part of her body, and she felt herself throb wildly around him.

' _Fuck_ ,' he growled all of a sudden, pulling quickly back and leaving her feeling empty at the loss of connection.

'I want you to, Deacon,' she said breathlessly, opening her eyes to look at him as steadily as she could manage. 'I'm ready, I've never been so ready for anything.' She saw a pained look pass across his face and he blew out heavily, trying to gain control of himself. 'What's wrong? You don't want to?'

'No, oh God Ray I want to, so damn badly,' he said in a rush, shaking his head. 'I don't… shit, baby, we can't - I don't have any condoms.'

He was braced above her and she grasped his biceps, trying to calm herself enough to understand what he was saying. 'You don't?'

'Deliberately,' he confessed. 'I figured it was the only way I could resist you. I knew I'd be too damn tempted otherwise.'

Rayna's face crumpled into a smile and she reached up to kiss him, a hand snaking around his shoulder and toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. 'You had to cut yourself off?'

'Baby, I can barely stand to keep my hands off you in the middle of the day sittin' on the bus with the guys scratchin' their butts everywhere around us. In a bed, with you like _this_?' He looked down at her naked body like she was every dessert he'd ever wanted to eat. 'It was the only thing I could think of. I so badly been wantin' to wait 'til you're ready and it seemed like the most sensible way. But right fuckin' now it seems like the most stupid thing I ever done.'

She kissed him again, speaking against his lips. 'You are the sweetest person I've ever known, Deacon Claybourne. It's not stupid at all.'

'I doubt Vince has anythin', he's not exactly the most careful of guys when it comes to sex.'

Rayna pulled a face, letting her head fall back onto the bed. 'More information than I needed to know about Vince, babe.'

'Would you really have been ready, Ray?' he asked quietly. 'I mean really, not just 'cause we got carried away there?'

She nodded, looking up at him seriously. 'I'm ready. Whenever our next chance comes up, I'm ready, Deacon.'

He brushed his nose with hers, kissing her and looking into her eyes, his smile full of emotion. When he moved to nibble on her earlobe she shivered, his breath hot. 'I can think of a way to make it up to you right now…'

'Oh yeah?' Rayna said, feeling her body flush with heat all over again, an instant reaction to him.

He nodded, his teeth scraping her skin, and kissed his way down her neck, sucking indulgently on each of her nipples and moving lower, dipping his tongue into her bellybutton; she giggled breathily, her hands combing through his hair. Her legs were on either side of his hips, and as he lifted his weight off her and shifted down the bed she pulled them back together, suddenly very aware that she was completely naked in front of him.

He looked up at her, his hands on her knees stroking her skin. 'Open your legs for me, baby,' he asked her gently, and Rayna's heart skittered about in her chest.

He was looking at her intently, every inch of her, and she felt nerves that hadn't been there when they'd been throwing each other's clothes across the room. Her trust in him was implicit though and she let her knees fall open; he eased them a little further apart and lowered himself, kissing her ankles, her calves. When he reached the insides of her thighs she felt lightheaded with anticipation, not sure what he was going to do but with a good idea, and it thrilled her as much as it daunted her.

Deacon, as though he was having to work up to it too, finally lifted his head to look at her, completely exposed to him. She saw him swallow hard, and felt his unsteady breath against her skin, his eyes taking her in greedily.

'You're so beautiful, Ray,' he told her in reverence, and she heard herself whimper, half fighting the urge to close her legs, this such a new experience to her. Arousal won by a mile though and she let it course through her.

His hands grasped her hips, his thumbs hooking around the tops of her thighs and brushing against the sensitive skin there. He licked his lips, and Rayna knew as he lowered his face that she was right about what he was going to do; she couldn't, however, have possibly imagined what it would feel like when his tongue dipped out and traced the length of her folds. Some kind of urgent noise flew out of her mouth and she understood instantly why he'd thought to hold her hips - they shot up off the bed, her legs squeezing his head, and his strong hands guided them back down onto the mattress, keeping them open.

He licked her again, with more pressure, and Rayna had no idea who cried out but she thought it must have been her. It felt incredible, his mouth on her, right where she'd been longing for him for far longer than she would ever admit, and it became quickly apparent that Deacon was _good_ with his tongue. She shouldn't have been surprised, she felt it all the way to her toes every time he kissed her, but with his head between her legs and his lips parting her, she could barely form a single thought other than _holy fuck_.

He pushed his tongue inside her and her hands flew out to grab the sheets above her head, her back arching upwards; he swirled it around, over and over, his enjoyment extremely obvious. He was moaning almost as much as she was, savouring her with his eyes closed in bliss, and she writhed beneath him, very aware that she was at his complete mercy.

'You taste _so good_ baby,' he rasped, his tongue laving her like he couldn't get enough.

Rayna swallowed a choked moan at his words, unable to believe what was happening; she looked down at him through heavy eyelids and he paused to lift his head and give her a wolfish grin. She felt two of his fingers enter her right before he moved his mouth to her clitoris, his tongue giving it an exploratory lick before he sucked on it lightly.

' _Deacon_ ,' she all but yelled, and he worked his fingers inside her, pumping them faster and deeper. When he removed them and slid his tongue into her again she couldn't help herself - she grabbed his head and pushed herself closer to his face, holding him against her. He groaned roughly into her, turned on by her need, and sped up the strokes of his tongue, one of his thumbs rubbing circles around her clit and the other hand smoothing its way up her body and grasping her breast, his thumb rolling over and over her nipple.

She couldn't have controlled herself even if she'd wanted to; she rubbed herself against his face, one hand clinging to his hair and the other holding on desperately to the headboard. An intense thrum began where he was feasting on her and started to ripple outwards, making her legs feel heavy, her breath shallow.

'Mmm baby,' he said, in encouragement or appreciation or both, his voice vibrating through her, and the feeling was just too much; her knees started to shake, the thrum rushing through her, and she blindly reached for him, finding his hands with hers and holding on for dear life. They clasped their fingers together while he continued lapping at her, an orgasm so strong shooting through her that she could do nothing but gasp for air.

When she started to come back to herself he was giving her small, gentle licks, the sensations sending volts across her charged skin. She let go of his hands and ran her fingers through his hair and he raised his head, his smile a mile wide.

'Deacon,' she mumbled, 'I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to walk again.'

He laughed, moving up her body and trailing his lips over her skin, kissing her sweetly when he reached her mouth. 'Well in that case, maybe we should just stay in bed forever. I could definitely deal with that.'

She ran a hand over his jaw. 'So we've gone from spendin' forever under a tree, to a pool, to a bed? I'd say we're movin' up.'

'We might need a bigger bed though.'

Rayna looked around at the sheets that were completely crumpled, at their clothes flung everywhere, the single bed only just big enough for the two of them. 'Oh I don't know about that,' she teased, 'it's not like there's ever an inch between us when we're in a bed together anyway.'

'That is true,' he agreed, kissing her again. 'Single bed it is then. Hell, a camp bed would do the trick.'

'Might be a little squeaky, I can't keep still when you do stuff like _that_ to me. God, Deacon, I don't know how you make me feel like that...'

He deepened their kiss, sighing into her mouth, and she threaded her hand into his hair and sucked on his tongue, feeling herself grow hot all over again.

She pulled back from him after a moment and gave him a questioning look, her tongue running across her lower lip. 'Is that what I taste like?' she asked in a whisper, and Deacon breathed out sharply, his eyes filling with lust in an instant. He rested his forehead against hers and nodded, and she felt him reach down and squeeze himself, trying to keep his control. 'I can help you with that,' she told him, covering his hand with hers and flicking her tongue out to lap at his as she batted him away.

He kept himself propped over her, holding his weight mostly off her, and she looked down between their bodies to where her hand was sliding up and down his length. It was sexy as hell to see, and a moan spilled from him when he lowered his head too and watched her movements. She snaked her other hand down and held the base of his penis while she stroked him, squeezing him just like he'd shown her, and his face dropped into her neck.

'Damn, baby, you're so good at that,' he said in a gasp and she sped up for a teasing few seconds, feeling his tip brush against her lower belly.

She'd been curious the first time, but she hadn't ventured to his balls, and she wasn't sure whether he liked them to be touched or not, so she moved both hands down further and cradled them experimentally. He swore into her neck and bit her there, giving her her answer, and she smiled to herself.

When she returned to his length it took only a few minutes for him to lose it, and as she felt him grow in her hand he tried to pull away to direct himself somewhere other than on her, but she shook her head. He looked down at her desperately, breathing hard, and she worked him faster still, determined.

'I want to know what it feels like,' she said, and Deacon hissed loudly.

' _Rayna_ ,' he bellowed, and she felt moisture a second later. He came on her skin, helpless to protest further, and Rayna gasped, surprised by how warm it was, and how _much_ of it spilled from him.

He held himself up with his arms as long as he could, but they were shaking hard and he collapsed on top of her, his head on her breasts. He murmured incoherently into them, kissing them and nestling into her, and when she combed her fingers through his hair to soothe him it was sweaty, much to her delight.

'Now _I_ ain't gonna be able to walk for a hell of a while,' he said, looking up at her, and _God_ she loved everything about him. His face was hot, his hair sticking up in all directions, and the way he was tracing circles on her hip with his fingers in gentle worship of her made her quiver.

'Then I guess we better accept that Vince is gonna get the shock of his life when he walks in here,' she said with a smirk, and Deacon's body shook with laughter against her.

'Oh he'd probably enjoy it, dirty bastard. Seein' you like this anyway, maybe not my bare ass.' He lifted himself up, grimacing when he saw how much of himself was spread across her stomach, the result of his enjoyment coating him too when he'd fallen on top of her and pressed it between them. He reached for his discarded boxers and took great care cleaning her up with them, moving onto himself only when he was satisfied he'd got every drop.

They weren't kidding about not being able to move, and he pulled the covers back, crawling under them and pulling her close, kissing her tenderly.

'Let's just stay here for a little while,' Rayna said, trying to hide a yawn. 'Just a nap.'

She was asleep before she heard Deacon's mumbled approval.


	7. Chapter 7

**So, it's been a while. A whole year, actually, since I updated this story. I mean that's just ridiculous. There's lots more of it to come (and not with another year between updates)- this one is such fun to write, and spending quality time with Rayna and Deacon is good stuff. I miss them every day. It hurts no less, right? It's almost worse actually than when the shit hit the fan because shit, has the missing them part set in. I'm leaving offerings at the TV Gods' feet to throw us the surprise of all surprises and have that finale episode set right the evils. 'Stranger things have happened at sea', and all that.**

 **In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this beast of a chapter. Fair warning: it's a graphic one. I almost took some of it out, but then I thought... screw it. This story has been building up to this moment so ah, let the smut live. So if that's not your thing, avert your eyes. And if it is - what are you waiting for?**

 **Thank you, as always, for reading, and for your reviews, it means a lot. Every time someone has left one asking me when the hell I'm going to update, it's made me want to open my laptop and get writing. The ones that mean the most are when people say fanfic is how we keep Rayna and Deacon going - I couldn't agree more.**

A faint sound Deacon couldn't quite identify woke him, and he prised open one heavy eye. The room was dark, everything still but for the puffs of Rayna's breath tickling his chest. He gradually became aware of the shape of her against him, of the feel of her completely bare, sweat-damp skin, her arm draped across his stomach. A smile washed over his face, his eyes closing again in contentment. The smell of her filled his lungs and he tightened his arms around her, sighing aloud.

These had instantly become his favourite times, and he had no idea how he'd lived without them before they'd set out on the tour. For months they'd slept with a wall between them - now he wouldn't be able to bear so much as a cotton sheet keeping her skin from his.

The faint noise was still there though, he realised, and he strained to hear it better: a haphazard sort of scraping, maybe, but it stopped every few seconds and was replaced by a dull thud.

'Mmm,' Rayna mumbled, stirring. 'What time s'it?'

Deacon pressed his lips to her forehead, rumbling his happiness in the back of his throat. 'Sometime after a hell of a night and before sunrise,' he said, and she lifted her head and looked at him sleepily. It was adorable, and he couldn't help leaning down and kissing her, one hand stealing to her lower back and holding her close.

In the dim light he could see her blush, and she giggled at his raised eyebrow. 'I like bein' naked with you,' she whispered as though it was a secret.

'Personally,' he said, 'I don't think we should ever put clothes on again. I'm gonna be jealous of every scrap of material that gets to touch you.'

She kissed him, biting on his lip, and he hummed and rolled her onto her back, his tongue finding its way into her mouth.

'Babe, hold on,' she said, but her foot was sliding up the back of his calf and her hands had found their way to his ass.

'Hmm?' he asked, sucking on her neck and enjoying how she rocked against him. She didn't answer and he pulled back to look at her in amusement as she struggled to gather her thoughts and make her point.

'We're… we're still in your room,' she managed.

'Uh huh.' He looked over at Vince's bed and realised groggily what she meant. It was empty, and he squinted at the clock on the flimsy nightstand: 3am. 'He must still be out. We should probably move into your room if we don't want him to walk in on this, huh?'

Rayna nodded, reluctantly releasing his butt and stretching underneath him, which didn't help his focus levels; her breasts grazed his chest and he dipped his head to suck on her nipple momentarily, unable to help himself. He wondered, quite seriously, how he would ever be able to function around her.

'I'm not sure I can make it down the hall though,' she confessed, 'you've done somethin' to my legs, Deacon, they're all wobbly.'

He waggled his eyebrows, pleased with himself. 'Want me to carry you?'

She giggled, and he was too busy kissing her to notice that the scraping sound had picked up again. The click of the door was followed by a crash and a drunken curse and Rayna gasped as the outline of an unsteady Vince stumbled in.

'Deac?' he said into the darkness after a confused pause. 'You in here?'

'Yeah, man, I'm here,' Deacon said, looking down at Rayna who had frozen beneath him; she covered her mouth with her hand, not sure whether to laugh or freak out.

'Why is there a bra on my foot?' Vince slurred. He leaned down precariously and picked it up, dangling it in the air. 'Pretty fuckin' sexy one too.'

'Um…'

'Fuck man, is _Rayna_ in your bed?' He hooted loudly and gave a low whistle, and Deacon yanked the covers up to cover Rayna's modesty, rolling off her and pulling her into his side.

'Turn that fuckin' light off Vinny,' he protested, but Vince had flopped onto his bed and was squinting at them through the glare of the lamp on the bedside table, his face full of delight and cheap red lipstick.

'Well blow me down, you horndogs. Glad I didn't come back any sooner, who knows what I mighta walked in on.' He craned his head to get a better look at Rayna, who was clinging to the covers and Deacon and trying to keep a straight face. 'Not that I woulda minded, of course - lookin' good there, Rayna.' He ignored Deacon's scowl and winked at her. 'Slummin' it in the boys' dorm tonight, huh?'

'I figured such a ladies' man would have better places to be, Vince.'

'I've worn the ladies out, doll. Even Adonis had to get some shut-eye sometime.' He dropped onto his back and propped his arms behind his head. 'Don't mind me, y'all carry on with whatever you were doin'. Ain't like I haven't seen Deac's dick before.'

Deacon looked at Rayna as Vince closed his eyes, glad to see she was finding the scenario funny as opposed to horrifying.

'Hey Vince,' she said, holding Deacon's gaze, 'you wanna raid my mini bar?'

'Is that supposed to be dirty?'

'There's pizza in there.'

Vince cocked an eyebrow, interest piqued, and cracked open one eye. 'Is there ranch?'

'Mmhmm. Lots of ranch.'

'Oh man, I _am_ fuckin' starvin'. I'll tell you, it takes a lot of energy bein' this cute.'

'I'll even let you eat it in my bed - it's all yours,' Rayna continued. 'It's bigger. And there's a TV.'

He sat up, feet on the floor before she could say anything else. 'Sold.'

She motioned towards the purse she'd tossed on the floor behind the door, and he rifled through it, lifting up her room key triumphantly.

'I'm out. Carry on sexin', my friends. Y'all have fun, now - make it worth her while, Deac.'

There was a moment of suspended silence after the door closed and his footsteps shuffled down the corridor. Deacon shifted in the bed and looked at Rayna, an eyebrow raised.

'There's pizza in your mini-bar?'

She kissed him on the shoulder and rested her chin there. 'Brett sent it to my room before the show.'

' _Brett_ sent you _pizza_?' He sat up. 'What the fuck is that guy's game? He just doesn't get the damn message does he?'

She followed, and trailed her lips up to the crook of his neck. 'He will when Vince tells him tomorrow how much he enjoyed that double pepperoni.'

Deacon laughed reluctantly, his momentary flash of anger dissipating. He kissed the top of her head. 'I don't know what I'd do without you, Ray,' he said quietly, and she gave him a quizzical look.

'You tryin' to break it to me that you wanna go join Vince, babe?'

'Oh I want nothin' of the sort,' he said, pulling her back down with him. 'I got everythin' I could ever want right here.'

###

'So I've spent more than we've made so far on this tour,' Kennedy declared midway through a mouthful of breakfast at a roadside diner the next morning, rifling through his wallet with the hand that wasn't spearing congealed scrambled eggs onto his fork. 'We ain't gonna get rich just yet, huh?'

'You ain't gonna get rich any which way, brother,' Jimmy told him with a cackle. 'You piss too many dollars down the john.'

'No one becomes a musician to make money, anyway,' Deacon said, stirring his coffee in the dreamy, absent-minded way he had been doing for the past five minutes while toying with Rayna's foot under the table. 'We do it for the love of the music, don't we?'

Rayna tried really hard not to bat her eyelashes at him, and it was a struggle; she'd been having trouble focusing on what anyone had been saying since they'd piled onto their bus earlier that morning, and words weren't coming out of her mouth in any kind of sensical fashion.

'Watty told me we shouldn't expect to be makin' any actual money for a long time,' she tried, but her voice sounded too girlish. All she could think about with any clarity was the conversation they'd had as they'd stood in front of the bathroom mirror, their efforts to fix themselves up enough to leave the hotel hampered by the insatiable urge to make out.

'Well, I say we start hoardin' these bread rolls if we're gonna be poor starvin' artists,' Vince said, unceremoniously shoving some into his pockets and throwing a couple of butter packets in for good measure. 'Hand me that ketchup bottle too, Jimmy. We might be able to trade up for tequila.'

Deacon laughed, and Rayna felt her insides jump about in response. _Tomorrow night_ , he'd said with toothpaste on his lip, _when we're in the next hotel. You really sure you want to, Ray?_

Tomorrow. They would be in Idaho Falls, a city she'd always wanted to visit, with a show that night and then two days off. She could hardly believe it was going to happen. She wanted to, alright.

'That waitress is lookin' right at you Vince,' Jimmy said, sliding the mustard towards him too. Vince shrugged and brazenly pocketed the second bottle, looking like a bad John Wayne tribute when he stood up.

'I'm bustin' out of here.' He gave an exaggerated stretch for show, pockets bulging, and cracked his knuckles. 'Gotta go take a dump. See y'all on the bus.'

They were on their way to Utah for the next show, and they'd be sleeping on the bus that night so that Barb could hit the pedals in the early hours to make the drive to Idaho, their next stop. There were so many cities on the tour that it made Rayna's head spin; she was sure she'd seen more miles flying by the windows than she'd travelled in all her life.

When they got to Salt Lake City the flurry of activity around them was already at full throttle and they made their way into the venue, the buzz and anticipation sucking them in before their feet were quite through the doors. It was addictive, no question.

Watty had flown out to see them, and he was waiting by the edge of the stage, chatting easily with Randy's manager while they leaned against empty chairs the audience would be filling in a few hours. Rayna hung back and watched him for a while.

Music was his love, it always had been; he didn't play so much of it himself anymore though, and she wondered why he'd stopped. She'd grown up going to his shows with her mother, some they'd played together, and he'd always seemed so at home on a stage, guitar in hand. He was much like Deacon in that way, and she couldn't imagine Deacon _ever_ not playing.

'There you are,' he said warmly when he saw her, and she bounded into his embrace, her curiosity reducing to a simmer. 'How's the tour been going?'

'Oh it's wonderful, Watty,' she gushed. 'I don't wanna go home. I just want to keep doin' this.'

He smiled in the way that Rayna thought could make any person in the whole world feel like he was a favourite uncle who would always have a kind word and a shoulder to lean on. 'That makes me happy to hear, Rayna, happier than you know. You belong on the road. I always knew you would one day.'

She wondered if she could ask him - why he wasn't on the road too, why it had stopped being the place he belonged. Or maybe it never had, and there was another reason he'd left it.

'Thank you,' she said instead, returning his smile and watching as his eyes scanned the empty theatre, sure she saw a wistfulness in them as they reached the stage. 'Hey Watty? I was thinkin'... maybe you could join us tonight. Up there, I mean.'

She hadn't known it was going to come out of her mouth, and she held her breath for a second, waiting for his reaction. Watty looked stunned and she squeezed his arm, her face earnest. 'I don't know, Rayna…'

'Come on Watty, it would be so fun. You're the reason we're here doin' this at all - it's all thanks to you. Just tonight? Please?'

He never could say no to her, his fondness for her making him soft. She had a way of getting people on her side, Rayna, a charm that was hard to resist, so people told her. She thought fleetingly of her father, the staunch exception, but the pang of sadness it brought passed with the nod of Watty's head, and she hugged him, delighted.

'Good to see you, Watty,' Deacon said, coming up behind Rayna. 'Great venue, huh?'

It really was: the ceilings were old and ornate, the walls painted vibrant red, and the seats were plush, tempting their sleep-deprived bodies.

'She's a beauty, alright. I played this place back in 1972. It was a special one.'

'You did?' Rayna asked. She wondered if it was with her mother, but he didn't say and she didn't ask. 'Watty's gonna join us tonight,' she told Deacon, full of excitement.

'Are you serious?'

'Only if I'm not gonna get in your way - this is your gig.'

'Are you kiddin' me? It'd be an honour to play guitar with you, Watty. Really. You're a legend.'

They had a ten minute soundcheck - such, they were learning, was the way of things when you were the pre-opener and everyone else ran over - late in the afternoon, a couple more run-throughs in a drafty corridor backstage. Watty knew most of Rayna's songs, and she deliberately cut the few she'd added in recent weeks, some of the many she and Deacon had written since they'd been out on the road.

There was something exhilarating about being spontaneous, not quite prepared; Rayna had been finding herself increasingly enamoured by the feeling of taking to the stage with some kinks still to be worked out. It felt raw, a little risky, and it made her better - it made all of them better. The music led them, every time, and learning to trust that it would, that they would pull it off night after night and could rely on their talents, and on the connection they were building as a band and as musicians, was something special. It had taken Rayna by surprise; she was someone who liked to know what she was doing, to be rehearsed and sure of her footing. This experience, this life she knew in her bones was for her, was teaching her how to open herself up.

Deacon was a huge part of it. Night after night she took a deep breath, and stood before the crowd gripped with the fear of messing up. And then she'd lock eyes with him and they'd float away. She'd feel the chords, the hum beneath her feet, his gaze upon her, and she'd find the trust - in him, in the music. In herself.

Watty stood behind her that night on the polished floorboards, pride radiating from him. When she looked over her shoulder as they came to the last song of the set, she saw it, and it was instantly recognisable: the fire he had, the love for the music.

It would be the end of his hiatus, the night that marked Watty White's return. If it had had anything to do with her mother, whatever it was that had silenced him, it was Rayna, he'd tell her for years afterwards, who brought his voice back.

###

Watty wasn't the type to enjoy aftershows on a tour. He never had been, really, but these days they held even less appeal, the abundance of drink and the blowing off of steam not his thing. He knew Randy's crowd were more respectable than some, and he'd been careful to be sure Rayna was surrounded by a solid bunch in her own band so that she wouldn't get caught up in it all. She had a good head on her shoulders, he'd always known that, but a little insurance didn't hurt.

Whatever town Watty was in, back in his performing days and in his talent spotting guise in more recent times, he preferred instead to take himself away to a quiet restaurant for a good meal. Elevenses, he called it, of the evening variety rather than the post-breakfast snack, and he'd travelled so extensively on the tour circuit that he knew the hidden jewels in most cities across the US.

Andy Farragh was someone he'd stayed in touch with over the years, infrequently, but every time he'd rolled through Salt Lake City the little Italian place his family ran was Watty's first stop. His usual table, tucked in a corner next to an overhanging pot plant that seemed to always be in flower, was waiting for him when he strolled through the door, a euphoric Rayna and her band in tow.

'We're not gonna sound nearly as good without you now Watty,' Deacon said when they seated themselves. 'It's all downhill from here.'

'Nonsense,' Watty replied, clocking how Deacon pulled out a chair for Rayna, right next to him. 'Y'all are soundin' great. I was impressed tonight, really impressed, and I'm not the only one - I'm hearin' good things from the guys on the tour.'

Andy was a stout, moustache-endowed man, as round as they came and twice as nice. He barrelled over to them laden with focaccia, his greetings loud and jolly. No one ordered, there was no need - plate after plate of food appeared from the kitchen, filling their table and their bellies: only the best for Watty and his companions.

'We should do this after every show,' Rayna said with her mouth full of warm bread and generous sloshings of olive oil. 'Why do we ever go to bars instead of this?' She soaked up a blob that had dropped onto the tablecloth and glanced at Watty quickly. 'Not that we drink in them. We just go for the atmosphere.'

He shook his head, amused, and made a mental note to be sure Lamar never got wind of that particular aspect of the tour he'd tried to put a stop to his daughter being part of. It wasn't the only aspect he shouldn't know about, he thought, as Deacon leaned across Rayna's plate and snagged a piece of garlic bread she'd given up on.

'I have a proposition for you,' he said, addressing the two of them, unsure whether against his better judgement or thanks to it. 'John Jenkins called me - you remember him and his wife, Mary, they came to one of the shows? It's Mary's birthday this week, a big one. John's throwing her a party, a real lavish kind of affair - it's in the forest up in Montana, really nice place. I can't make it, unfortunately, but neither can the band they had booked, the lead singer's been taken ill.' He dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. 'John asked me if the two of you would sing.'

'Us?' Rayna squeaked.

'He knows how much Mary loved you, and he was interested himself. The set would be a couple of hours, little longer than you're used to and not much time to prepare, but they'd want you to throw in some covers, some material people at the party will know. It falls on a rest day for the tour, which is a stroke of luck. What do you think, are you up for it?'

'A private gig, in a forest?' Rayna looked excitedly at Deacon, who didn't need to give an answer. 'We're up for it, alright.'

The restaurant cleared out gradually, tables emptying one by one, and Rayna's bandmates made their excuses and headed back to the hotel, all apart from Deacon. It was almost 1am when Rayna's yawns got the better of her; Watty waved over at Andy for the cheque, finishing the dregs of his glass of red wine and tossing his napkin onto the table.

'I think it's time we get the two of you back,' he said. 'You're hitting the road in a few hours, right? Idaho next?'

Rayna glanced at Deacon and nodded, scraping her chair back. 'I'm just gonna go to the bathroom before we leave,' she said. 'Excuse me for a minute y'all.'

Watty put his empty glass down and peered at Deacon, whose eyes trailed after Rayna. 'She's somethin' special, isn't she?' he said, and Deacon, realising Watty had caught him staring, had the good grace to squirm in his seat.

'She sure is,' he replied, finding a crumb on the table that required immediate attention.

'You're very close.'

Deacon looked up, the crumb forgotten. 'Yeah.'

Watty put his elbows on the table, fingers interlaced under his chin. 'You're in love with her.'

It was a fact, no confirmation sought and none given. Deacon would be a fool to try to deny it and the look on his face said he was fully aware of that. Watty studied him: he was boyish in some ways, vulnerable in moments, as much as he tried fiercely to hide them. At the same time there was the weariness of a much older man about him, a weight. Sometimes it was downright darkness that Watty saw in him, and he'd often wondered what the boy had been through to put it there, whether his love for music was born of the need for escape.

The boy who sat before him now, though, wasn't the hardened teenager with a fake ID and a scowl that he'd first met two years ago. Something had happened to him since he'd known Rayna; he softened whenever she was near, looked at her like there was no one else in the room, or all the rooms beyond that. That had always been true, but it was more than that now.

'I'm lookin' after her, just like you asked me to, Watty, I ain't forgettin' what I promised. How I feel about her don't change that - I'd do anythin' for her.'

'I've watched you both, Deacon, I see how you are with her. You're a good kid. You're good to her. What's going on with the two of you is your business, it's not up to me to tell you to stay away from her - it's not up to anyone to do that. It'd be futile anyway, that's obvious.' He sighed, keen with the ache of love that could never be - that wasn't something he wanted for Rayna. 'I just want you to know what you're getting into. For both your sakes. Some things there's no coming back from.'

Deacon pressed his lips together, his face serious. 'I tried not to fall for her, I really tried, but...' He gave a little laugh, one that said he knew how absurd the notion of it was. 'I never had a choice. Not from that very first minute I met her. It's just… I got to a point of not bein' able to deny it anymore. Bein' out here with her like this, all the music, her - it's not in my control. I love her, Watty. I just do.'

Watty smiled, a little sadly. 'It's a deep love that comes about through music, son, sometimes so much that it's dangerous. Protect her heart.' He lowered his chin and looked Deacon in the eye. 'Protect yours, too.'

'Y'all ready to get goin'?'

There was a moment of silence as Rayna appeared at the table, the two men looking up at her, and she looked between them, perplexed. 'Everythin' okay?'

Watty stood, putting a hand on her shoulder. 'Everything's just fine.'

###

The bus pulled out of the venue parking lot before sunrise, rousing Rayna. Her bed, squished into the tiny space the back room afforded and barely more than a single, felt far too big, and in her sleepy state she reached for Deacon, remembering belatedly that the guys hadn't gone to bed until the early hours of the morning, too wired from the show and too full from all the pasta, and there had been no opportunity to sneak him into her room.

She sat up, yawning and stretching her neck from side to side, instantly aching for him. The bus was quiet, rolling down a highway she couldn't have picked out from a line-up of any of the other highways they'd travelled. Today though, it was headed to Idaho, to their hotel, to the bed that would be waiting in her room for them to share that night. The bed she would lose her virginity in. It felt like the night before a wedding, sleeping separately, kept apart to want each other all the more.

Laying down and closing her eyes only woke her further and she gave up, throwing the covers off and swinging her legs out, the floor cold on the soles of her feet. She tiptoed out of her room, listening to the heavy breathing coming from the bunks. Deacon's was the bottom one on her left, and she peeled his curtain back, crouching to kneel next to him. For a moment she just watched him: he was laid on his back, his face peaceful, the outline of his jaw strong. He wasn't one of the heavy breathers - his chest rose and fell evenly, mouth slightly open.

He was beautiful. Rayna couldn't help herself: she reached out to touch his cheek. He'd shaved the day before but there was stubble growing back, just the right amount - damn he was sexy. How she loved when he nuzzled her neck with that stubble. The need in her stomach flared, and she willed him to wake up and do something about it.

'Deacon,' she whispered, leaning in close to his ear.

She barely breathed it, not wanting to startle him, feeling guilty for waking him at all. He stirred, letting out an indulgent hum, his head turning towards her.

'Baby,' he murmured, and his voice was scratchy and rough - her favourite. He looked into her eyes, and she saw in them a glint she knew well. Deacon, these days, woke up full of affection for her, gentle and reverent. He also woke up horny as all hell.

'Come to my bed,' she said, cutting straight to the chase. He rolled onto his side, the glint growing into a smirk.

'You want me in your bed, huh?'

'I want you everywhere.' She watched his eyes drop to her thin camisole and linger on the outline of her nipples.

'So I see.' He was all but drooling, and she peeled the covers off him, whimpering at the obvious hardness in his boxers. They were all he had on, and she dragged her eyes over his body, longing to have it against her.

'Come with me,' she said, standing up. She nodded towards his boxers. 'Bring that.'

She turned towards her room, sure to sway her ass invitingly on the way; she knew he was looking at it. She felt his eyes, the way they slid over her skin, appreciative of how tiny her shorts were, the curved undersides of her ass cheeks luring him. He appeared behind her, close but not touching her. She smiled to herself as she pushed open her door and he closed it behind them, his hands on her a second later, greedy and eager.

'I dreamed about you,' he told her between kisses. Her legs hit the edge of the bed and she held onto his strong arms as she fell backwards with him. 'I always dream about you.'

'Oh yeah? What did you dream?' He kissed her neck, licked her collarbone. She shivered.

'That you weren't in my bed. That you were miles from me.' He looked at her. 'But you're here,' he whispered. 'You're here now.'

When she kissed him he slipped his tongue into her mouth, and her fingers flew to his hair, the charge from him zipping furiously through her body. His hands, one at her waist and one in her hair, stilled, his kiss taking both of them over, not a damn thing in all the world but the joining of their lips.

They pulled back, panting, looking into each other's eyes in amazement.

'I had a dream too,' she told him, and he nudged the tip of her nose with his. 'I dreamed we couldn't make it to tonight. We couldn't last all those hours.' He laughed and she felt it rumble, not an inch between his chest and hers; she lifted her legs and hooked them behind his ass. 'I feel like I'm burning Deacon. I feel like my bones are burning.'

His groan was directed into her neck, and it was wet with the heat of his breath. He rubbed himself against her, side to side to open her up, back and forth once he had. Their underwear was still on, a vain attempt at controlling themselves; she knew he felt her throb through it.

'A few more hours,' he rasped into her ear. 'We gotta wait a few more hours. I want you alone.' He bit it. 'I want to make you moan.'

When the breath came back to her, stolen momentarily by the lust that scorched her everywhere his words hit, she did just that. It made her dizzy.

She could taste him on her tongue, feel the outline of him so clearly, her shorts no barrier. With every grind of his hips she willed herself to keep them on, her eyes screwed shut and one hand bunched in the sheets, her only anchor to sanity.

'I need you, Deacon,' she hissed, 'I'm so… I need you to touch me.'

The clench of his jaw told her it took every ounce of his strength, her plea raw to his ears - and she felt for herself the effect it had on his heated penis - but he shook his head. 'I won't be able to stop if I do, Ray.'

He sounded desperate, a hysterical edge to his voice, and Rayna groaned her frustration. He was right, of course - it wasn't the place, and it wasn't the moment, not for their first time. The highway hurtled past them through the cracks in the blinds and she closed her eyes, trying to slow her racing heart. The impossibility of the feeling between her legs calming down without his hand, his mouth, _something_ , brought her a moment of clarity, and she looked him straight in the eye.

'Then you're just gonna have to watch.'

If she'd told him the sky was falling down she was sure his mouth couldn't have opened any wider, and he rolled off her without another word. He bit his cheeks, staring intently at her, not sure if she was serious, and she let her head fall onto the pillow. The sleepiness had cleared entirely, his eyes alert and fixed on the hand she was resting between her still-clothed breasts; he was waiting, stunned.

Rayna sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, and before she could talk herself out of it, she trailed her hand down her abdomen, stopping briefly to scrape the nail of her thumb over her nipple. Deacon's eyelids grew hooded, his eyes dark beneath them. They followed every centimetre.

At the waistband of her shorts she hesitated, but at Deacon's muffled moan she lifted her knees, letting them fall apart just enough, and moved lower, making a slow circle with her forefinger.

' _Rayna_ ,' Deacon growled, and she pushed her finger inside herself at the sound of his voice. Through her half-closed eyes she could see the effort it was taking for him to keep his hands to himself.

She arched her back, hardly able to believe she was doing this in front of him, and moved her finger in and out, adding a second one.

Through her haze she felt the bed shift and he was suddenly kneeling before her, his hands on the waistband of her shorts. 'I need these off, I need to see you,' he said, so turned on she could barely stand it, and she lifted her hips quickly. He threw the shorts over his shoulder, staying where he was, and she spread her legs wider for him. He watched keenly, his breaths short and laboured; she knew he was enjoying it every bit as much as she was.

His hands were unable to help themselves completely and he held her thighs open, urging her on. His grip was what did it; her body jerked and she cried out his name, trying with all her might to keep from being too loud. She felt his weight bear down on her as she pulsed, pushing her into the mattress, and one of his big hands covered hers, holding her fingers inside herself and stretching out her orgasm. He opened his mouth against her lips and she knew he wanted her to let herself moan, the sounds muffled enough by him not to wake everyone on the bus, hell - everyone on the damn road.

'Shit, Ray,' he was saying over and over again when her heart had quieted enough to hear anything above it rushing in her ears. 'Holy _shit_.'

They could have driven all the way to another country and back in the time it took them to get a grip of themselves. Deacon couldn't take his eyes from her, and she had done absolutely nothing to tame the hardness he was trying to keep in his pants. It jutted into her hip bone, and at some point he lifted himself from her and put a clear and deliberate gap between them.

'I'm gonna be a dead man if we wait any longer.'

She twisted onto her side, heady with release. 'It's gonna be worth it, Deacon.'

'Oh I know it is. It's gonna be worth every second of the past year and a half of waitin'.'

She reached for his hand and he let her take it, but he motioned to the space between them in mock seriousness and warned her not to come any closer, muttering something about blue balls. As her eyes started to close, Rayna wondered how it could be that in just a few short weeks, she'd gone from wanting Deacon from afar and not daring to admit it to herself, to doing something so very private in front of him. She felt her face get warm, but it sent a shiver through her all over again.

Just a few more hours. Surely that could manage that.

#

'Where are we?' Rayna asked into the pillow, and Deacon lifted his head, realising at the same time as she did that they'd fallen asleep.

'We've stopped movin'. We must be in Idaho.'

A peek through the slats of the windowblind told them they were in a parking lot - the venue for the night, apparently. The sounds of guitar strings and cutlery on plates filtered through the door, and Rayna hobbled onto her elbows.

'Everyone's awake. How are we gonna get out of here?'

'Well,' Deacon replied, sitting up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder, 'we could just walk on out there.' He kissed her skin lightly. 'Give 'em somethin' other than beer and chicks to talk about.'

She chuckled, pulling her knees up to her chest. 'Or?'

'Or… we just stay in this bed all day.'

'All day, huh?'

'Mmhmm. All day.' He nibbled on her ear, nodding.

'What the hell is Deac doin'?' they heard Jimmy bellow. 'Someone get his lazy ass up out of that bunk, I wanna jam with him. And while you're at it, holler at Rayna too. Did someone slip them a NyQuil last night?'

'Damn it,' Deacon muttered, leaning in the extra inch and kissing Rayna's lips. 'Busted.'

'Deac is _in_ his bunk, right?' Kennedy said, his footsteps clomping down the bus. 'We didn't leave him in Utah?'

Rayna gasped, pulling back and motioning towards the window. 'You're gonna have to climb out through there,' she hissed, and he sized it up dubiously.

'You think I can fit through?'

'Well what do you know, boys, he ain't in here,' Kennedy declared, just on the other side of the door. Rayna scrambled up from the bed as quietly as she could, Deacon following.

'Tell them you went for a mornin' jog. Just come right back in through the front door.'

Deacon gestured at his scant cladding. 'A jog in my boxers?' He made a fair point, though Rayna would happily watch him run around in nothing more.

'I think some of your clothes are in here somewhere,' she said, and under a pile of her discarded stage outfits at the end of the bed she found a pair of his jeans. He hopped into them, and she reluctantly handed him a T-shirt of his that she'd been keeping under her pillow.

'I'll see you in a few minutes,' she told him. He nodded, but his eyes travelled down her body, naked except for a pair of white panties she'd pulled on. He cleared his throat. 'Deacon,' she mused, looking down at the bulge in his pants with a smirk, 'you might _actually_ need to go for a mornin' jog first.'

He snickered sheepishly and she shooed him towards the window.

'Hey,' she whispered, and he turned back to look back at her, one hand on the frame. 'Tonight.'

'Tonight, baby.'

He caught her lips, one more time, before he levered himself out of the narrow opening, somehow making it through and landing on the other side with a clatter and a curse.

When Rayna emerged from her room a couple of minutes later, Kennedy and Jimmy were still standing on the other side of the door, leaning against the bunks and debating Deacon's whereabouts. She gave them her most natural forced yawn, tugging on the pyjama shorts she'd put on as though to straighten them after rumpled slumber, and propped herself against the doorframe.

'Well look who made it out of bed,' Jimmy said. 'Sleep well?'

'Like a baby. Y'all havin' a mother's meetin' out here or what?'

'Tryin' to figure out where Deac's got to,' he told her, peering over her shoulder into the empty room behind her. She was glad she'd thought to close the window.

'He's not here? Probably gone to find himself some coffee that tastes better than the stuff Vince makes.'

They sat down on the couches, the jovial mood everyone was in settling over Rayna. _Tonight_. She couldn't think of a happier time in her whole life: the anticipation, the idle chat and the playing of guitars, the smell of the hot buttered toast Jimmy rustled up for them all.

The door to the bus opened as she was biting into a second slice and Deacon appeared to a chorus of wolf whistles and applause. He did a pretty good job of looking surprised at the fuss, Rayna thought, and the morning paper wedged under his arm was a good touch.

And then she glanced down at his feet: no shoes. He suppressed a snigger as he made eye contact with her.

'We were about to send out a search party,' Kennedy quipped, moving up to make room for him.

'I been out gettin' some air,' Deacon said casually. 'Y'all make some worryin' smells in those bunks durin' the night.'

'We were startin' to think you must've got off the bus before Barb left Salt Lake City, off sneakin' into some girl's bed...' Jimmy said, and Rayna saw him study Deacon's reaction. Her heart sped up. 'I swear there's somethin' you ain't tellin' us. There _is_ a girl, ain't there?'

Deacon poured himself a cup of coffee and deliberately didn't look at Rayna so as not to give himself away. 'I'm pretty sure I ain't in Salt Lake City, so your theory's kind of a bust there, Jim.'

'I dunno, man, you been… different.' Jimmy narrowed his eyes, his hipster beard twitching. 'You been happier, or somethin'.'

'I don't know what to tell you, buddy. Bein' on the road is a damn good time. We're gettin' paid to play music every night - what's not to be happy about?'

'I'll second you there,' Kennedy said, 'I'm happy as a pig in shit about that too. But I'm with Jimmy on this one - you wanna know the difference between your happy and my happy, Deac?'

'What's that?'

'My happy's givin' me a beer gut and a soft spot for Randy Travis tunes. _Your_ happy's got you walkin' around with a shit-eatin' look on your face every hour of the day and night.' He tapped a yellowed smoker's finger on the table in triumph, as though a detective who'd solved his whodunnit. 'And that only comes from one thing, Claybourne - you're gettin' some.'

Deacon laughed, rocking back on the worn couch. 'You got me. Cat's out of the bag, boys - me and Barb been shackin' up on the quiet.' He stuffed toast in his mouth and spoke happily around it. 'And I'm fuckin' _starvin'_.'

'Who is it, man, for real?' Kennedy asked. 'Wait a minute - is it Annie?'

'Annie? The roadie?'

'Yeah, the girl with all the tattoos, you know.'

Vince, quiet during this exchange, snorted. 'I don't think Annie swings that way, Kennedy. Deac ain't got the right parts.' He shrugged. 'She's cute though, wish _I_ had the right parts.'

'Annie isn't gay, she's bi-sexual,' Rayna said. 'She broke up with her ex-girlfriend for a guy. Or the other way around, I'm not sure.'

They didn't let the subject drop, reeling through every female on the tour and checking suspects off their lists, and Deacon indulged them in good humour.

They would tell everyone soon, very soon, it just wasn't quite time. Rayna wanted to keep their relationship to themselves for the privacy, the space to marvel at it all without prying eyes and questions, even from these people she'd so quickly come to love. It was a big deal, what was happening with her and Deacon, and she didn't want to add any pressure onto that.

And then there was tonight. She wanted their first time together to be something only they shared; it felt like a huge milestone. It _was_ a huge milestone.

###

Soundcheck had taken, surely, several hours longer than usual. Days, maybe. Deacon hadn't paid attention to a single second.

His mouth had never been so dry in all his life, and the hammering in his chest was really starting to make him feel dizzy, but it didn't matter how much water he sipped or how many deep breaths he took. Every time he let himself think about what was going to happen in a few hours, it set off all over again.

Vince's offer of a half-eaten burger during his usual afternoon binge - how the guy stayed skinnier than a drainpipe was anyone's guess - was something that Deacon would ordinarily jump at, delicious grease ever-appealing, but as he'd looked at the cheese oozing out of the bun, he'd felt his throat close up.

Their rushed trip to the nearest diner for a pre-show dinner had been another washout, and he'd watched Rayna pick at a salad without putting so much as a lettuce leaf in her mouth, relieved to know she was feeling the same way he was.

Nervous. He was nervous as hell. The good kind - the excited, butterflies-floating-out-your-ass kind, but he wasn't sure how he was going to make it through the day.

He'd been in love with her for a year and a half. It was simultaneously the most incredible and most acutely painful feeling he'd ever known, during all the time he'd pined for her and somehow even more now that they were finally together. The ache in his chest had reached a crescendo somewhere around sunrise when he'd woken to find her kneeling beside his bunk in those sexy little pyjamas.

She was giving him her virginity. Of all the guys who wanted her, Rayna, for some inexplicable reason, wanted _him_. Deacon wasn't good with words, unless they were in the form of songs, and he kicked himself every day that he didn't know how to find the right ones to tell her exactly how he felt. Tonight though, he would be able to show her, no words necessary, and he wanted it to be nothing short of perfect.

They checked into their hotel after soundcheck and he excused himself to go and find the nearest store. It was a dusty, fifty-cent-coffee-in-a-polystyrene-cup kind of place, choices limited and sell-by dates apparently ignored, but Deacon did the best he could. They had candles, the shitty kind that smelled like pot pourri - better, he figured, than the ones you were supposed to keep in your kitchen drawer for unanticipated power outages, which were the only other option. He put two packs and some matches into a basket and found the token offering of wine bottles the store carried, picking out what he thought looked like the nicest one.

She'd be hungry afterwards, he figured, feeling the frisson again at the thought of there being an _after they had sex_ in their very near future, and he found the snacks aisle, plucking a pack of chips and her favourite brand of guacamole from the shelves. She loved strawberries so he went in search of those too, making a pit stop to grab a pack of the Honey Buns she would never admit to eating for breakfast some days.

When he got to the checkout he felt his biggest thrill so far, his hand shaking a little as he motioned towards the condoms behind the cashier.

'You want twelve or twenty-four?' the guy asked, and Deacon rubbed the back of his neck, flustered at the question.

Twenty-four seemed presumptuous, the notion that Rayna would enjoy having sex with him and that she'd want to have more of it something he didn't want her to think he took for granted. He certainly didn't - he was terrified she would be disappointed, by the experience and by him. His nerves cranked up, spurred on by the pressure to answer the bored-looking teenager who was waiting for him to choose

'Twelve,' he said, but then he thought of her whispering in his ear that morning and almost dropped the Honey Buns. If the past few weeks of them not being able to keep their hands off each other had been anything to go by...

'Twenty-four. Make it twenty-four.'

#

By the time he made it to her hotel room, fishing the spare key she'd sweet-talked out of reception from of the pocket of his jeans, he only had an hour until they were due on stage. He hurried around, placing candles on every surface that looked vaguely sturdy and stowing the matchbox on a desk near the door so he could light them when they got to the room later.

They were going to skip the aftershow, their excuses ready, and he knew that after the grilling Jimmy had given him that morning there would be some watchful eyes in their group, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to get the show done so he could have her in his arms, whatever it took.

He put the food on the desk too, chewing on his lip as he turned to look at the bed and wishing he could afford to take her someplace with less scratchy sheets, but they would be together, and he knew she would tell him that was all that mattered. She was right, but he fluffed the pillows and shook out the comforter anyway.

By the time he made it to the venue he was out of breath, having taken the few streets from their hotel at a run, and he paused in the parking lot to gather himself. Through the open doors he could hear Randy's band having another run through of a song he'd presumably just added, a frequent occurrence, and Deacon felt the music pump through his veins. Music and Rayna filling his days was the dream he never thought he would get to live out, and suddenly he couldn't take another moment away from her.

He straightened and strode towards the door, and he was almost through it, almost enveloped by the sound of drums and guitars and the stuffy heat of the theatre and the start of the night he would never forget. And then he looked back over his shoulder.

She was standing by the wall smoking a cigarette, and even through the black sunglasses she wore he could feel the steel gaze boring into him. Her arms were folded over her chest, a ratty overnight bag at her feet, and her hair was shorter than it had been the last time he'd seen her. He noticed right away how thin she looked, how beaten down.

It took him a moment in his surprise to tell his feet to walk towards her, and she scowled at him for it, but when he got within a foot she flung herself at him all the same.

'Beverly,' he said as he hugged her, the smell of liquor that rolled off her making his nose sting. 'What are you doin' here?'

'You don't want me here?' she retorted, already defensive, but he wasn't surprised; it was her default state most of the time. Not with him, not until a while ago, and it had hit him hard trying to get used to being the direction of her ire these days - if it was possible, she was even angrier at him than anyone else.

'That's not what I mean, not at all.' He stepped back and held her at arm's length to get a better look at her. 'Why didn't you call me and tell me you were comin'? How did you even know where I was?'

Beverly rolled her eyes. 'You're on tour with Randy Travis. It was pretty easy to find out.'

Gaunt. That was the word he was trying to think of. She looked gaunt. He frowned.

'What's happened, Bev?'

She shook his hands off her shoulders and dropped her cigarette butt on the ground, stubbing it out with her foot. 'Can't I just come and see my little brother? Do I need a reason?'

'Of course you don't, but you're a very long way from Atlanta, so I'm guessin' you got one. I figure you're not exactly here to see us play.'

Beverly laughed bitterly. 'Us,' she repeated under her breath, looking away from him. 'To see _us_ play.'

Deacon studied her face, but she refused to look at him. Instead she pulled another cigarette from a battered packet, her hand unsteady as she flicked open a lighter.

'I missed you, Bev,' he said quietly; all she did was narrow her eyes.

'It was your choice, wasn't it, not to come with me? You're not the one who got abandoned.'

She was trying to bait him into an argument, the same one they'd had a hundred times - they ran away from Natchez, made it to Nashville, he knuckled down and got a job, albeit one that paid peanuts, she indulged her atrocious taste in boyfriends. He sold his soul to get them gigs, she stopped showing up to play them. He met Rayna. Beverly left, Deacon stayed.

She was miserable. And she blamed him.

'Want me to see if I can get you a ticket to see the show?' he asked, reaching out with the toe of his boot to nudge at the toe of hers, but she didn't answer. 'Come on, it'll be fun. I get the feelin' you could do with not havin' to think about anythin' for a couple of hours.'

For the most fleeting of moments when she looked up at him, he saw his sister, the old Beverly, full of the vulnerability she only ever let him witness. She took off her sunglasses and Deacon's heart sank at the black eye she'd been hiding under them.

'Bobby kicked me out,' she told him. 'We had a fight. I didn't know where else to go.'

'Oh Bev,' he said, and to his surprise she let him pull her into a hug. 'He's an asshole, you know that. I _know_ you know that. He ain't good for you. He ain't good for nothin'.'

She pulled away from him abruptly, turning her face from him and clenching her fists. 'If you hadn't left me to go running to _her_ , none of this would have happened. We could be doin' well, now, you and me, Deacon. We could be doin' really well.'

'It ain't my fault you left town, Bev. And it sure as hell ain't Rayna's fault. You'd already stopped givin' a shit about makin' music. You weren't takin' it seriously, and I _needed_ to take it seriously.' He stepped into her space, willing her to see it in his eyes. 'I needed it to hold on to. After everythin' we been put through, music's the only thing that's ever been there for us.'

'And now? Do you need it now?'

'I need it now as much as ever. And I know that somewhere, deep down in there, you do too. I got a real shot here, Bev, and you could be doin' this too. There ain't nothin' to stop you but yourself.'

She snorted, looking away from him and shaking her head. 'Now you got her, that's what you got.' She spun on him, her jaw set, furious. 'I had no choice but to run to Bobby. You wouldn't come back to Natchez with me because some bratty little rich girl with a pretty face and pretty hair got you sniffin' around her like a Goddamn puppy dog, doin' whatever she wants, jumpin' whenever she tells you to.'

'Don't you talk about her like that. You're out of line, Beverly. You're _way_ out of line.'

'Touched a nerve, have I?' She barked a laugh, and Deacon tried hard to get his temper under control. Beverly fished out her cigarettes, lighting up the last one and blowing the smoke in his face. 'Let me guess - you're sleepin' with her now. How long did it take you to get in her pants, huh?'

Deacon stared her down, dismayed at the nastiness that dripped from her tongue. 'What are you doin' here, Beverly, really?' he asked, feeling more drained than he had in months. 'If you want me to help you, I'll help you. I'll always help you. But if you're here to blame me for what's goin' on in your life, I can't be your scapegoat. It don't help either of us.'

'You can't help me,' she spat. 'You're only thinkin' of yourself. My life's a mess, a horrible mess, Deacon, and you don't even care - you've got your _music_ and your _tour_ and your _Rayna_ , it's all about _you_. You're just like everyone else.'

She was wound tightly with resentment, her face screwed up with such bitterness that Deacon could hardly stand to look at her, and the notion hurt him. It all hurt, and she meant for it to. Beverly had a hell of a mean streak; it was all too familiar to Deacon, but it was his daddy who'd aimed it at him all these years, not her. Beverly had been on his side, they'd been in their hell together, a team.

It was all self protection, of course, developed out of the necessity to have a thick skin, though there were far healthier ways to go about it. It was all she'd been able to do, though, and Deacon had wondered many times if he'd have headed down the same road if he hadn't met Rayna. She'd saved him, and she had no idea the extent of it.

He sighed. 'Did you come all the way here just to tear me down, Beverly? Is it makin' you feel better?'

'You know, I thought you might just be _happy_ I'd come here. I thought you might see that you'd made a mistake, that you'd come back with me and we'd both be able to have a better life. But I was stupid to even think it.' She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. 'You know why? 'Cause you and me, we can't have a better life. We can't ever escape Natchez, not if we're honest with ourselves.'

'That's not true.'

'Oh it's true. You might be baskin' in the sunshine of your girl for now, but you wait and see. You ain't enough for her, baby brother. You ain't never gonna _be_ enough for her. And all of this?' She gestured around the parking lot; roadies wheeled cases back and forth, the backstage rush nothing more than a blur to Deacon now. 'It'll disappear right along with her.'

###

The atmosphere among the crowd before a show entranced Rayna every night. It was possible, at first, to pick out a couple of voices, a few words here and there spoken more loudly than others, bursts of excitement and friendly laughter carrying above the rest.

As more people filed in, finding their seats and making pit stops at the bar, the voices blended into indistinguishable noise. It sounded like a beehive, Rayna thought, a buzzing that she felt under the soles of her feet as she stood each night peeping through the crack in the curtain that closed off the backstage area.

Half an hour to showtime. She was getting jitters, as she did before every show, but it was more than that. She scoured the people milling around backstage again; Deacon was still nowhere to be seen.

'Where the hell is he?' Jimmy asked with a frown, coming to stand beside her.

'I don't know. He said he was just headed out to the store to pick up some stuff he needed.' Rayna looked at Vince on her other side. 'You don't think something's happened to him, do you? It can't have taken him this long, the store was only a couple of blocks away.'

'He'll show, doll. Deac wouldn't let you down.' Vince looked just as puzzled as she felt, and Rayna couldn't help it, she started to pace the floor.

She was still pacing when Randy's tour manager strode over to them to give them their fifteen minute warning. Still no Deacon. Maybe he'd just gotten lost on his way back and he was freaking out somewhere, trying to hurry to her in time. Or maybe he'd gotten cold feet about their night, maybe he didn't want to sleep with her after all and he didn't know how to face her to tell her so.

'Okay,' Rayna said, wrenching the thought out of her mind and switching into crisis management mode. 'We've got fifteen minutes. If he doesn't show, we need a plan. Jimmy do you know all his parts? Kennedy, Vince, you're good without a bandleader?'

Everyone nodded, and she felt somewhat reassured that they weren't going to make idiots of themselves on stage, but it didn't do anything to stem the nausea that churned in her stomach. She turned back to the curtain and watched a brunette woman flirt with one of the stewards. Ten minutes.

There had been nothing to indicate that Deacon was feeling anything other than the same anticipation she was, no clue in their morning conversations, or their whispers at the counter in the diner only a couple of hours earlier; she replayed each interaction they'd had that day over and over. Whatever had happened must have been unexpected, she told herself, though her skittering heart tried to convince her otherwise.

The compere's voice boomed through the speakers in the auditorium and Rayna's nerves went into overdrive. She had a job to do, though, Deacon or no Deacon, so she gathered her band, put one foot on the steps leading to the stage, and steeled herself.

She was almost at the top when he appeared. He was flustered, his hair dishevelled, and he grabbed his guitar from a roadie and took the steps two at a time, all the while avoiding Rayna's eyes. There was no time to question him, or to do much of anything but try to wipe the confusion off her face and step out onto the stage, and he followed her, throwing his guitar strap over his head.

The show was the most awkward they'd ever done. Maybe it wasn't obvious to the audience - they sounded fine, hit all their notes, made it through all their songs, but they sure as hell didn't give their best impression. Deacon barely looked at Rayna throughout the whole set, a million miles from their usual way, lost in their chemistry and their lyrics while she sang and he played.

'Hey,' she called after him when he bolted for the stairs after they'd thankfully finished performing, but he was too fast for her. He handed his guitar back to the tech guy and strode away without so much as a glance over his shoulder. 'Deacon!' she said, but he didn't stop.

'What' goin' on with him?' Kennedy asked, staring at Deacon's retreating form. He looked as worried as he did confused at the behaviour, out of character for the Deacon he knew.

But it wasn't out of character. Rayna had seen dark sides of Deacon in the time she'd known him - glimpses, sure, but she'd seen them. He usually took himself away from everyone to deal with whatever demons were plaguing him, and she'd never really seen beyond that. He'd never let her.

'Somethin' must have happened,' Vince said quietly at her side, putting an arm around her, knowing, as he always did, when she needed a friend and no fuss to be made.

Rayna stared at the space Deacon had stalked through, the little parting the crew and the other bands had made to let him pass still not quite closed back up. 'What could have happened in the space of an hour? He wasn't gone any longer than that.'

Vince looked a little grim. 'He gets like this sometimes,' he said, only to her, 'usually when it's somethin' to do with his family.'

Rayna knew something of the troubled upbringing he'd had, but the details he'd shared with her were scarce, and she'd had the feeling he was trying to shelter her from something awful. She'd met his sister a couple of times back when she and Deacon were getting to know each other, and the girl hadn't exactly been a bundle of joy but she'd moved out of Nashville soon after and Rayna knew Deacon hadn't seen her since.

Why family issues would be bothering him so out of the blue and what could have put him in such a bad place, especially given their evening plans and how elated he'd been about them, she had no idea.

#

The afterparty was in the hotel bar, and unsure how to help Deacon given that he was still nowhere to be seen, Vince and the boys headed there. He hadn't re-emerged during Randy's set, and he wasn't in the bar, not that Rayna had expected him to be but she'd hoped anyway, although it wouldn't have made her feel much better to find him propped up on a whiskey glass.

She scoured the room for the umpteenth time, and downed the tequila and soda Vince handed her, deciding that waiting was making her too anxious and going to look for him would be more productive.

Her hotel room was her first stop. She'd given him a spare key, and she figured he was more likely to go there rather than his own room. When she opened the door she stood for a moment, taking in the sight before her. Flowers, yellow ones - her favourite - on the drawers, the bedside table, the windowsill. An array of snacks, all things she loved. Unlit candles on every surface. And no Deacon.

So whatever had gone wrong had been after he'd been to her room and so thoughtfully prepared it. She grew even more confused, and tears stung her eyes, spilling over onto her cheeks until she wiped them away in frustration.

She checked his room next, her steps becoming more hurried, the desperation to see his face and hold him to her growing with each one. No sign of him there either. It looked as though he hadn't even been in the room at all - nothing was out of place, no sign of his personal things.

She dashed through the grounds of the hotel, feeling as though it was futile but not sure where else to look. It was a big city and he could be anywhere in it, a bar, most likely, and searching the vast array of them scattered throughout the streets would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Rayna was starting to really panic when it hit her: she knew exactly where he was.

The hotel parking lot was quiet, everyone inside or smoking out front. The buses were lined up at the far side, each of them dark and empty. Theirs was at the end furthest away, tucked into the corner with no sign of any occupants, but Rayna had no doubt she'd find him inside. That bus was the closest thing to a real home he'd ever had, he'd told her one night, and she'd spent the past month watching how the wheels comforted him, even when they weren't moving. It was the same way she felt.

The door opened with a vague protest, and she closed it behind her before she climbed the stairs. When she got to the top one she paused, listening to the soft sound of his old guitar, the absent-minded way he plucked the strings, just like he always did when he was trying to work through something that was on his mind.

He kept playing as she walked towards him, slowly, like she was approaching a cat she didn't want to startle away. When she was a foot from him he stopped, but he didn't put down the guitar and he didn't look up at her.

'I'm sorry,' he said, so quietly she almost missed it.

'Are you okay, Deacon? I've been so worried about you.'

'I'm sorry,' he said again, and in the dim light from the harsh street lamps outside she could see how forlorn he was.

'Did something happen, babe?'

He nodded, his grip on the guitar faltering. He looked exhausted. 'My sister happened.'

Rayna raised her eyebrows. 'Beverly? Did she call you?'

'She showed up in the parkin' lot when I was comin' back to you.'

'She came _here_? Didn't she move to Atlanta? That's a hell of a long way for a surprise visit.'

'She had a fight with the boyfriend guy. Came here to ask me to help her, I guess.' He slid the guitar onto the couch beside him and leaned forward, sighing heavily, dropping his face into his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. 'She wouldn't let me though. Guess she really just wanted to twist the knife in.'

Rayna took a step closer; their knees were almost touching. t'What did she say to you?'

'A lot of stuff. Most of it probably true.'

He didn't pull away when she lifted his chin with her finger, and she took it as an invitation to let her hand stay on his cheek. 'What stuff, Deacon?'

'That I ain't never gonna amount to anythin'. That we're stuck, just stuck in our past shit, that's our hand we been dealt and you don't get to walk away from it. That I left her, and her life's a mess 'cause I ain't there for her.' Rayna moved the rest of the way towards him and stood between his legs, cupping his face; when he let himself look at her she felt her chest ache. His voice cracked when he spoke again. 'She said I ain't good enough for you, ain't never gonna be, don't matter what I do. You'll always deserve more than me.'

'She's wrong, Deacon. About all of it. She's so wrong.' She leaned her forehead against his. 'I don't know why she would say those things to you, maybe the thought of you doing well in your life, actually bein' happy, it makes her look too hard at herself. Maybe she thinks she needs to make someone else feel awful so she doesn't have to feel awful alone. Whatever her reasons, none of those things are true.'

'I don't know, Ray.'

'I do. _I_ know, Deacon. I know you, I see every part of you. In my whole life I've never met anyone who cares so much, or feels so much, or gives so much. You can do whatever you want with your life, you're so talented, and you work so hard at what you love.' She was crying, tears rolling down her face freely. 'If it makes Beverly feel better to try to bring you down rather than lift herself up, well that's her problem. I know she's your sister, but she can't put all of that on you - her problems aren't your fault.'

'I know,' he whispered, crying too. 'I know they're not. But I feel like I got a responsibility towards her and I'm failin' her. I tried, Ray, I really did try. I just don't know what to do for her.'

'Why do you feel like it's your responsibility to fix her?'

Deacon took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and plucking at a frayed patch on the knee of Rayna's jeans. 'I ain't told you much about how we grew up, me and Beverly. I don't want you havin' to think about any of it, it ain't pretty. But I found a way out - we both did. Music was the only thing got us through and it's what broke us out of there eventually, away from that town, from the people in it.'

His face turned sour. 'Beverly though, she turned her back on it. She's chasin' men who are just like my father, destroyin' herself instead of holdin' onto the one thing that can save her.' He shook his head stiffly. 'History must be so Goddamn bored of repeatin' itself.'

Rayna's stomach churned, dread settling heavy in it. 'What kind of man is your father, Deacon?'

He looked up at her, the saddest eyes she'd seen. The angriest, too. 'Not a good one,' was all he said. His hand hesitated at her knee, torn between holding onto her for strength and closing himself up. It was a fight Rayna saw in him often; let her in, _need_ her in, or shut her firmly out. The only thing she didn't know was why.

'But you're free now,' she said. 'You got out. Beverly might have gone right back there, in whatever way, but you haven't.'

He didn't speak for a few moments, opting for holding on, it seemed; he smoothed the pad of his thumb over the exposed skin of her knee that peeped through her jeans, thoughts whirling visibly around his mind.

'It took me two years to save up for my guitar,' he said eventually. Rayna looked at it next to him; it was the battered one he'd had as long as she'd known him - his sidekick, she thought of it as - not the one Watty had given him. 'I bought it with money from shitty job after shitty job - I wasn't old enough to work a single one of 'em but I guess people cut me a break.

One day I got home and my room had been trashed - my daddy must have been wonderin' what I'd done with the money I'd been earnin' and he went lookin' for it. Found it under my mattress, a whole year's worth of savin', by that point. He took every last dollar. Blew it all on bad whiskey in one night.'

'Oh Deacon,' Rayna said, and she couldn't have known what else had happened that night, after the whiskey; he didn't elaborate.

'I started again - knew better that time, though, I hid everythin' I saved in an old outhouse at the bottom of the yard - smelled of dead animals in there so I knew no one ever went in. I'd seen this guitar in a store in town, this old thing in the second-hand section. I went in that place every damn day to check it was still there, and it was, 'cause it was so beat up nobody else wanted it. I think that's exactly why I did - that and it was the cheapest one in there so I knew it was the only one I'd ever be able to afford.'

Rayna lowered herself to sit on one of his knees, her heart in pieces. He hooked a grateful arm around her waist and let her run a hand through his hair, leaning into her touch. 'Anyway, I finally saved up enough, and I went in and bought it. The guy who owned that store, Mr Tucker, he'd seen me in the place every day, thought I was up to no good at first. Think I almost got myself a good hidin' a time or two, but my daddy's got quite the reputation in that town and I guess he figured out pretty quick why I was hangin' around. Day I went in and put a stash of dollar bills a mile high on his counter, he handed me that guitar like it was a bar of gold.' He smiled at the memory. 'Couldn't have felt better if it was.'

Rayna reached towards the guitar and traced the edge of it with a fingertip, realising for the first time that the scratches on it were a roadmap of Deacon's life.

'I couldn't take it home,' he continued, 'I knew exactly what would've happened to it, would've been firewood before I could blink. Tucker let me keep it in his store. I kept goin' there every day after that too, but I sat in the back room and practised, for hours at a time. Turns out he was an amazin' player himself - he taught me more than I ever could've learned by myself. I owe him a whole lot.'

'I'd say _I_ owe him a whole, too,' Rayna said. 'That guitar was your ticket to Nashville, and the reason you were at the Bluebird that night I met you. All those hours of practise, everythin' he taught you to help you become the guitar player you are now - that's what Watty saw in you. It's why he introduced us.' She smiled, toying with a tuft of hair at his temple. 'I can't imagine life without you now. Or this guitar.'

'Me either, baby. And I know I got damn lucky meetin' you. You save me, Rayna, every day. Beverly couldn't find the strength to keep fightin' for a better life, but you give that to me.'

She shook her head. 'That's not true, Deacon. You were already fighting - you were out there, playing and writing and bustin' your ass to make it work. _You_ got yourself out of that town, away from your father. And you've stayed away. No one else did that for you, and no one can do it for Beverly - not a boyfriend, not a friend. Not you.'

He sighed, but nodded. He knew she was right.

'And as for bein' _good_ enough - Deacon, you're more than good enough, for me _and_ for you. I couldn't have begun to imagine that it was possible to feel this way about somebody. Everythin' that's happened in your life, all the parts you want to tell me and all the parts you can't - it's all you, Deacon, and I want all of you.'

His arms closed around her and he pulled her into his body, leaning up to kiss her. He tasted of salty tears, his defences all drained away. And on that empty bus, in the middle of a night they would have been sharing a different kind of intimacy, something else remarkable happened instead.

'I love you, Deacon,' Rayna whispered for the first time, and as the blood rushed through her ears she watched his face flash with emotion.

'Ray,' he said, his throat thick. 'I love you too, baby, God I love you so much Rayna.'

He kissed her again, sealing the affirmations they made by the light of a flickering orange street lamp in the truest home either of them had ever known.

Rayna physically felt the change in him: her words and his reciprocation washed away all the sadness Beverly had weighed him down with, the guilt, the grief. The love she felt was echoed right back at her, and it filled her up, the feeling one she could never describe but would spend years trying to, lyric after lyric that would never truly bottle its essence. Maybe that was the beauty of it: it belonged only to them, understood by the two of them alone.

They sat for a long time, Rayna on Deacon's lap in shared silence.

'I'm sorry, baby,' he said after a while, but it was without the despair of earlier. 'I ruined our night.'

Rayna smiled. 'You didn't ruin anythin', Deacon. Does this look like a ruined night to you? I can't think of anythin' that could make it more beautiful.'

Her t-shirt had fallen off one shoulder and he kissed her collarbone, letting his cheek rest there. 'I can think of one thing.'

###

The sun had barely risen when Barb woke - such was touring life. Such was the rest of life, too, come to think of it; she was so used to being on the road that it had permanently re-set her body clock.

She was among the first in the hotel dining room for breakfast, a smattering of bleary-eyed crew with their faces in swimming pool sized black coffees sat around. She downed a nutritious mix of sausages and crispy bacon - for the protein - and washed it down with some eggy fried bread, a rare delicacy she'd never been known to pass up, heading out to the bus with a nicely full stomach.

Morning paper under her arm to accompany the trip to the john she had planned, she prised open the door and thudded up the stairs, basking in the stuffy heat that had been steaming up the windscreen since sunrise and making the place feel like an oven. She settled herself in the driver's seat, propped her paper open on the steering wheel, not quite ready for the bathroom yet, and was undoing the button on her jeans to get comfortable when she was struck by the sudden feeling that she wasn't alone. She squinted into the rearview mirror: there they were, huddled up on one of the couches, sound asleep.

She was glad as she padded towards them that she possessed the delicate agility of a cat, not wanting to wake them. She knew Deacon had had a rough night for whatever reason, and when she'd briefly joined the aftershow - they'd never been her thing, she favoured a late-night diner and a cold beer in peace - Vince had told her Rayna was off searching for him.

It made sense right away, of course - she should have known he'd gravitate towards the bus, he was almost as content on it as she was, and she'd been living on the things for most of her life. Deacon, she had seen soon after meeting him, was a lost soul looking for his home, and he'd found it in more than one way. The road, Rayna - he was home alright.

'Well, now,' Barb muttered, smiling at the sight of them. They were in their clothes from the night before, Deacon on his side with Rayna curled up beside him, her head tucked snugly under his chin. His arms were around her, and even in slumber he held her close, as though if he let go she might disappear. Every breath he took ruffled a strand of her hair against her cheek, but it didn't disturb her; quite the opposite, maybe it soothed her. They looked serene, and Barb couldn't help watching them for a few moments.

Deacon's guitar was on the floor beside the couch, and the table was covered with balls of crumpled paper - Rayna's favourite way to write, to rip pages out when she wasn't happy with them, tossing them here there and everywhere. So they'd spent the night making some music. Barb resisted the urge to pick up the notepad wedged under Rayna's shoulder, curious as she was to know what had emerged from them in the midst of whatever had caused Deacon's pain.

She nodded to herself, at the sweetness of it all, the inevitability, and picked up the raggy old blanket from the adjacent couch. The wool was soft and worn, and she shook it out, placing it over them carefully.

It was something, she thought as she walked back through the parking lot towards the hotel, to witness the beginning of them, to see the thing between them become what it would be. That was the thing with inevitability though: it already _was_. This was the part where they realised it.

###

Watty had sorted them out with a car, a truck, to be specific, knowing Deacon was happy behind the wheel of one, and he'd pulled in a favour from the rental place to get it dropped off at their hotel. It was a decent ride, Deacon thought as he signed the papers for it, far nicer than the rusty piece of crap he owned back in Nashville, and a hell of a lot less likely to break down at the roadside.

They headed into the hotel for some breakfast to fuel up before they set off, and Rayna guzzled coffee at the table, the satisfied look on her face one Deacon knew well by now - it came with having nailed a really great song. They'd written until the early hours, eventually falling asleep with the haunting melody they'd created still lingering in their ears, their stomachs light with excitement and exhaustion.

'You look like you're in a better place this mornin', Deac,' Kennedy remarked as Deacon scarfed toast and eggs at rapid speed - late night writing sessions were a hungry business.

He smiled around his mouthful, no desire to explain what had happened. They knew, however, that Rayna had clearly pulled him through whatever the problem had been, given that they'd walked into the breakfast room together after being mysteriously absent all night, and their intrigue was unmasked. 'Sorry 'bout that, y'all.'

'Rayna to the rescue, huh?' Jimmy said, looking between the two of them. Deacon nodded noncommittally, but he gave Rayna a sideways glance full of gratitude.

'So,' Vince interjected before the thread of conversation ventured any further, 'you two are off to Montana today, right, the party for rich people? Not a bad gig if you can get it.'

'Mmhmm,' Rayna replied. 'I don't know why they asked for us, I mean we only met them that one time, but Watty said the band they'd booked had cancelled last minute, so I guess they were kinda stuck.'

'Don't underestimate yourself, doll,' Vince said, 'they asked for you 'cause you're _good_. You deserve recognition for that. You and Deac together, you make some fine music. Gets people right in the tit.'

She smiled at his ever-poetic word choice. 'Well, Mrs Jenkins was real sweet when they came out to see one of the shows, I think she's got a soft spot for duets. Hey y'all don't mind me and Deacon goin' solo on this one, do you?'

'Are you kiddin' me?' Kennedy said. 'We get the day off. Ain't any of us mindin' that. And tomorrow's a travel day, so tonight is gonna get messy, y'all.'

'We'll meet up with you on the way to Missouri tomorrow,' Deacon said, squeezing a generous dollop of ketchup on his plate and mopping it up with a piece of bread, making sure to look over at Rayna when he took a big bite. She wrinkled her nose and he laughed - it was one of his favourite food combinations and she made no secret of thinking it was gross. 'Watty's arranged for us to drop the truck off at a town somewhere in the middle of Montana when we're done with it, the rental firm has a branch there. Barb's gonna swing by and pick us up on the bus so we can drive the rest of the way with you fine folk.'

'Just in time for a second night off,' Vince said, rubbing his hands together. 'Never been to Missouri before, but I'm down to sample the local beer and the local women.' He took a sip of orange juice and looked at Rayna and Deacon. 'Gonna be weird around here without you two tonight. Get your asses on the road, already, would you? Before we change our minds and get clingy.'

#

Deacon made sure to stop by Rayna's unused hotel room before they set off, picking up the snacks he'd left there the night before and loading them into the truck for the journey. He tossed in a couple of bottles of water from a vending machine in the parking lot, some sodas for good measure, and figured they were good to go. They would be driving for a few hours, to their joy - it was the first time they would be alone, really alone, for a whole day since they'd gotten together.

'It feels like we're goin' on an adventure,' Rayna said as she jumped up onto the front seat, and he climbed in happily beside her.

'We are.' He took her hand, firing up the engine and feeling the truck roar to life underneath them. 'You ready?'

'Yeah,' she told him, 'I'm ready.'

They drove steadily along the highway, windows down, warm air blowing Rayna's hair about her face. She turned the radio on, some old school country coming through the speakers, and Deacon watched her as she sang along, one arm out the window, her fingers tapping in time. He'd seen her do the same thing a hundred times before but things were so different now - he didn't have to hide the look in his eyes that crept there whenever they were on her, or pretend he wasn't staring. Now when he did, she found his hand and tucked hers into it.

The wide roads of Idaho blended into the luscious pines of Montana, as fresh as they were green. They chatted easily, revelling in the beauty around them, in each other's company, and the whirlwind of the tour felt a million miles away. They made pit-stops, several of them, a couple at remote gas stations to stock up on water and use the restrooms, a few more to succumb to the need to make out at the side of the road. When they eventually arrived in the little town of Hamilton, flanked by snow-capped mountain and blankets of trees, they were a little sunburnt and a lot flustered, and the grins on their faces felt like they'd stuck there when the wind had changed.

'We've gotta be almost there,' Rayna said, turning the map they'd snagged at one of the gas stations upside down and frowning at it, her nose so close to it she was almost _in_ the pages. Deacon laughed.

'Baby, if we've had that thing the wrong way around this whole way, I'm gonna say we're screwed at this point.' He laughed harder when she swiped at his chest, the map crumpling like a cheap accordion.

'I know where we're goin',' she said, 'I'm good at directions.'

'Uh-huh,' Deacon nodded, snickering to himself.

'You just do the drivin', smart-ass. I got this navigation thing in hand, thank you.' She opened the map up again, scrutinising it and scanning the road ahead of them for a street sign. The town seemed deserted, dotted with picturesque stores and cowboy bars and no people, mountains stretching up ahead of them like a painting. 'Here!' Rayna cried suddenly. 'Take a left! A _left_ , Deacon!'

After making the sharpest left turn known to man so as not to miss the street she was gesturing wildly at, Deacon drove them past sparse houses separated by expanses of land, horses roaming here and there. Where the tarmac ran out and the road turned into a dirt track leading into the thick trees, he slowed, and they looked at each other.

'The address Watty gave us is this street,' she said with a shrug, 'he said it was in the forest. It must be up here?'

'Then let's go take a look.'

The track twisted and turned, just wide enough for their truck, a few branches flicking into the open windows, and Deacon was just starting to think they'd taken a wrong turn when it shifted to the right and a big pair of wrought-iron gates appeared.

'Ooh,' Rayna cooed, peering at the house beyond them. 'It's gorgeous.'

'Sure is,' Deacon said as the gates opened by themselves. The main building was a cabin, though unlike any either of them had seen before: it was vast, stained cherry wood logs and pointed window frames making it look like a place Hansel and Gretel would have strayed into.

It spawned several smaller structures, all made of the same wood, some just canopies with no walls. Each was lit with strings of small bulbs; dusk was just beginning to fall and they were starting to come to life in the opaque light, enticing Rayna and Deacon towards them through the tall pines, whose leaves swayed this way and that in the hint of breeze. Rayna and Deacon felt sure, caught instantly in the suspended magic of it all, that there was only this place, everything else dust on the highway they'd left behind.

They pulled up on a patch of neat gravel, sitting for a moment without getting out of the truck.

'Where do you think we go?' Rayna asked.

Deacon looked around. Up close, the place looked like a real-life gingerbread house. 'I say we try the front door,' he suggested, 'see what happens.'

He lifted their overnight bags and his guitar case out of the truck bed and they walked up a winding path, mismatched paving stones bordered by twin rows of yellow flowers, little lights hidden among them starting to appear.

'It's so beautiful,' Rayna murmured, breathing in the clean crunch of the air and taking Deacon's hand. It couldn't hurt, they figured, luxuriating for a few stolen seconds in the warmth of the other's palm. They didn't get to hold hands often, Deacon realised, and it felt good, something he couldn't wait to do more of when they'd told everyone they were together.

The doorbell didn't make a sound when they rang it, and they exchanged a glance, wondering if anyone would answer. Faint footsteps started to echo in the distance and they let go of each other's hand as the door was pulled open. A pleasant woman in a simple dress smiled out at them, bustle and noise spilling out behind her, and Rayna stepped forward.

'I'm Rayna Jaymes, this is Deacon Claybourne,' she said, holding out her hand, and the woman shook it sincerely. 'We're here for the birthday party, Mr and Mrs Jenkins. Are we in the right place?'

'Oh you're in exactly the right place,' the woman replied, opening the door wider and ushering them inside. 'Come on in, they're expecting you.'

They followed her into a spacious entrance hall, the tang of polished wood potent in the air. It smelled tasteful, in a nature-meets-money kind of way, and the smooth animal hides splashed across the slate floors added nicely to the effect.

In contrast with the serenity outside, the house was a hive of activity, men and women in black and white waiting attire scurrying past them in all directions. They followed the woman down a long corridor that wound around towards the back of the house and opened out onto a vast porch, twinkling lights and sweet gardenia as far as they could see. The gardens beyond the porch bled into the forest, and tables were set up on the grass, starched white linens and silver cutlery on each, tall champagne glasses, as yet empty, glinting in anticipation of a good time.

Streamers hung from tree branches, crickets chirping somewhere unseen at their roots, and a narrow stream wound through the setting, somehow also discreetly lit. It gurgled, little splashes popping up here and there from what looked like carp, and stretched out into the distance where it disappeared into the pines.

'Oh,' Rayna said softly, taking it all in, and Deacon hummed his agreement.

'The other guests will start arriving in an hour or so,' their host said, pleased at their reactions. 'You got here in great time.'

'Rayna, Deacon,' Mary Jenkins' storied voice exclaimed, and she appeared beside them, her husband with her. 'You found us! We're _so_ delighted you could make it.'

She bestowed embraces on them both, John Jenkins favouring firm handshakes, an air-kiss on each of Rayna's cheeks. They were dressed immaculately, John in tailored suit trousers of the casual variety and a dress shirt, Mary in a pale pink shift dress with matching jacket. She was the epitome of a Southern woman, perfumed and lipsticked, big hair and big heels, but she wore it with a wink.

'Mrs Jenkins, Mr Jenkins,' Rayna said, 'we're so happy you invited us to come sing. We're touched that you would even think of us.'

'Oh now, you must call us Mary and John, we're old friends by now,' Mary told them, 'and we've thought of you a lot. Don't go sharin' this little secret, but I was just over the moon when the band we had booked couldn't make it after all. Not that I wished influenza on that poor man, of course.' She chuckled, shooting John a mischievous look.

'Mary here hasn't stopped talkin' about the two of you. I was fixin' to play hardball with Randy to get you to come on up here, but what a stroke of good fortune with the timin' bein' what it is and y'all bein' available.'

'Well we're flattered,' Deacon said, 'really.' He rubbed his neck, unable to quite believe it all. And then he looked at Rayna, and he was certain the whole night must be his imagination. She beamed back at him, though, as real as could be. Somehow, she was even prettier surrounded by wildflowers and just-waking fireflies. It was all because of her. Everything good in his life came back to her.

'What a wonderful setting for a party,' Rayna said.

Mary slipped her arm through her husband's. 'It's all John's doing, he set the whole thing up. We used to come here when we were young things, not much older than the two of you, actually - a lifetime ago now. It was a hotel back then, little chalets, adorable, and then one day, a few years and a lot of hard graft later, John bought it for me.' She smiled at him, her eyes shining. 'I always wanted a cabin of my own.'

John, who clearly adored his wife, lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, and Deacon watched them. He hadn't had good role models growing up, not a lot of examples of a loving marriage for him to see with his own eyes, and it fascinated him.

'This is your stage,' John told them, motioning to a raised platform with two microphone stands nestled at the edge of the tables just before the trees thickened out. 'If you need anythin' settin' up, Richard over here is our sound and lighting expert.' He indicated a man who was crouching down fiddling with some wires, and he greeted them with a gruff, friendly nod without standing up.

'I think we're good,' Deacon said, looking to Rayna for clarification. 'I just got my guitar, that's all.'

He'd brought the one that Watty had let him borrow, though Rayna knew his was in the back of the truck. John Jenkins took the case and handed it to Richard, who went about plugging it in and testing the sound.

'Ermin,' Mary said to the woman who'd let them into the house, 'would you mind taking our friends here around to their rooms to get settled?' She squeezed Rayna's hand warmly. 'Come on back whenever y'all are ready. We would just love you to join us for dinner before your set.'

They accepted gratefully, turning to follow Ermin back into the house, and Mary called after them.

'I almost forgot. I hope y'all don't mind, I figured you probably wouldn't have evenin' wear out on the road with you - not a whole lot of call for dresses and suits when you're out with Randy. I took the liberty of pickin' some out for you, just in case.' Rayna and Deacon looked at each other, her in excitement, him apprehension. Evening wear was not Deacon's thing. 'Don't feel obliged though, I won't be offended! My husband has always said I have good dress sense but he can't match his own socks, so he's not to be trusted.' She looked at John, who lifted the legs of his trousers and sure enough was wearing two completely different coloured socks. 'They're hangin' up in your rooms, either way.'

#

Dinner, while unquestionably a lavish affair, was far less formal than Deacon had worried it would be. Mary and John had arranged for him and Rayna to sit at the table next to theirs, their three grown children and one small granddaughter completing their own table. Friends and a seemingly endless extended family chattered easily at the other tables, hollering at each other whenever they had something they wanted to share. It was a lively affair, rich with laughter and celebration, and it took only minutes for Deacon to forget he felt self-conscious.

He'd taken his things to his room, Rayna retreating to hers directly across the hallway. Somehow, it had seemed fitting for them to get ready separately for the evening, no spoken consensus needed. The black dinner suit had been hooked on the door of a stained armoire. There was no tie, and Deacon, ever thankful for small mercies, had showered and wriggled into it, finding that it was cut as though it had been made for him. How Mary had known his exact size, he had no idea.

He'd stood in front of the full length mirror in the spacious, elegant room, trying to take it all in. The reflection of the guy staring back at him looked comically uncomfortable in his attire, but he looked pretty damn happy too. The twists his life was taking were certainly something, and he'd hummed to himself as he'd tugged at the buttons of his stiff shirt, surely the whitest thing he'd ever worn.

The knock at the door had sent him flying to answer it, eager to see Rayna in her outfit, but he had been woefully unprepared. She'd stood before him in a floor-length crimson dress, v-neck and pinched in the middle with a thin gold sash, the skirt made of some soft material he didn't know the name of, but he thought maybe it was velvet. She was breathtaking. She wore her hair in her usual loose curls but she'd pinned a few strands back, and she had on a simple gold bracelet. Deacon had felt his entire throat close up as he'd looked at her.

She'd been sat next to him through several courses and coffee, and still he couldn't take his eyes off her. He'd sipped his champagne - trying not to pull a face at the taste - and attempted to navigate which fork to use for his starter, eaten his steak and half of hers when she couldn't finish it, and hadn't been able to focus on a damn thing but her, how impossibly beautiful she was.

'Ms Jaymes, Mr Claybourne,' Richard said discreetly, appearing by their table and leaning down to address them. 'We're ready whenever you are.'

The next hour passed in a blur. They took to their stage, the sky completely dark, fireflies floating lazily all around them, and the air was sweet and warm. The guests were full of hearty food and heartier drink, enjoying every song. They'd chosen happy ones, mostly, love songs, melodies that fit with the occasion, and they'd included some of their own that they'd written and hadn't yet shared with anyone else.

A space had been left in front of the stage for the guests to dance, should they feel like it, which they certainly did; they tossed aside napkins, swayed and twirled, some singing along when they knew the words of the covers. Rayna and Deacon had picked them out on the drive, rehearsing them and refreshing their minds of lyrics, and Deacon had played in enough bars around Nashville to know the chords to countless songs, enough of an ear to improvise the ones he didn't. They sang every line of every song to each other, one of the microphones completely ignored in favour of sharing, much to Mary's evident delight; she made the most of the grassy dancefloor with the best of them.

Deacon couldn't help his eyes dropping to Rayna's lips every few moments; they were the same colour as her dress, stained with lipstick and red wine, and he wanted to kiss her so badly he had to root himself to the spot.

'We're gonna take a quick break, folks, if you'll excuse us,' she said in the middle of their set. 'When we come back, feel free to throw out any requests you might want us to do.'

She was such a natural, Deacon thought as he lifted his strap over his head and set his guitar down, following her off the stage and through their appreciative little crowd. She was as captivating in her rapport with them as she was when she sang, personable and funny, and he loved being able to see in such an intimate setting how people responded; he thrummed with pride every moment he was beside her.

She led him up the stairs to the porch and around to the side of it, towards a narrower wraparound he hadn't noticed earlier. It stretched to the far corner of the cabin into a little balcony nook in the trees, shaped like the helm of a boat.

'Tonight is amazing,' Rayna mused, leaning her elbows over the edge.

'It really is.' He settled in next to her, and he could feel the warmth of her arm through his shirt sleeve. He'd ditched the jacket, finding it too restrictive to play guitar in, though that was more of an excuse just to get out of the damn thing. 'I love the guys and all, but it's real nice just bein' us for a night.'

'Yeah,' she agreed, her smile making his heart thump.

'You look beautiful in that dress, Ray.'

'This old thing?' she teased, giving him a little swish.

He laughed. 'You look beautiful in anything, I can't believe what a lucky bastard I am.'

She turned towards him and traced his collar with her finger. He'd caught her more than once that evening looking at him like she might hurl the plates from the table and throw herself at him, to his satisfaction. The struggle to control themselves was mutual, he knew.

'I've never seen you look like this before, Deacon. I like it.'

He caught the glint in her eye, the tilt of her head. The heat that had been between them all night seemed to flare up a notch. 'Yeah?'

She nodded. 'I like your flannels better though.'

'That's lucky,' he said, 'I don't think we can keep these.'

'I can't believe how _expensive_ all of this is. These clothes, this place - all of it.'

He nudged her hip. 'I'd have thought you'd be used to this kinda thing. This is your scene, ain't it? More courses in the dinner than I got fingers, everybody wearin' more than we earn in a month.'

Rayna scoffed, rolling her eyes - at the notion, not at him. 'My daddy spent the equivalent of someone's college tuition on my sixteenth birthday party. It was at the country club, not long before I met you, actually. All that money, all that planning - not that Daddy did any of himself, of course - and it was one of the most boring nights of my life.' She laughed, but it was mirthless.

Deacon watched her face, trying to imagine her before they knew each other. 'You didn't enjoy it?'

'I hated it.' She turned back to the balcony, looking out into the woods beyond. 'I realised that night that my daddy didn't care what I wanted, for my birthday or for my whole life. He didn't even know me. That party was full of strangers and kids I wasn't friends with, listenin' to music I didn't know, eatin' food I didn't like, all so Daddy could impress their parents. It was about bein' seen, puttin' on a show to look like we were some enviable family. Truth is, there was nothin' to envy, nothin' at all.' She shook her head, grief settling over her. 'Daddy was the biggest stranger of all, it turned out. My momma died and Tandy and me, we became orphans, everywhere but on paper. She loved me so well, we were so like each other, Deacon. But she's gone, and he doesn't even want to try to know me.'

He took her hand and laced their fingers together. She looked down at them, joined, and tightened her grip on him. _Thank God I found you_ , the gesture said, without her needing to speak. And then he saw her do the thing he had watched her become increasingly adept at over the past year and a half.

With a breath in and out and a lift of her chin, she fixed a smile on her face. The hurt she felt was visibly forced into a metaphorical box.

'So this party,' she continued, lighter, 'this is fancy, alright, but the difference is these people are actually havin' a good time.' Deacon didn't push; he let her shift the mood however she needed. The truth was, she was every bit as good at locking her heart away as he was, but she may as well have been naked to his eyes even so. 'I think I spied an old lady drinkin' whiskey out of one of those champagne glasses.'

'I think that mighta been me,' he said, and she smirked.

'You know, none of that stuff ever did a thing for me even before my momma died. I'd choose our stinky bus and drinkin' awful beer out of coffee cups over all of it. I'd choose cowboy boots over these expensive heels.' She met his eyes. 'I'd choose you, Deacon, over every other thing in my life. And if we live more lifetimes than this one, I'll choose you in every single one of them.'

'I love you, baby,' he told her, his throat cracking, 'I love you so much. _Damn_ it feels good to be able to say that to you out loud.'

She kissed him then, no more words necessary; they'd said the only ones that mattered. The rest was instinctual, their bodies close together.

At the far edge of the porch, close enough that maybe they would have noticed if they'd been aware of anything around them, Mary Jenkins lifted a hand to her mouth, delighted to have her suspicions confirmed. She took a moment, a voyeuristic one perhaps, to wish that they stayed so sweet always, wrapped in each other.

'Mary?' came her husband's voice behind her. 'What are you doin' up here?'

She turned quickly towards him, fanning her arms over her face as though too warm. 'Just gettin' a little blast of AC from inside the house, my love, it's cooler up here. Let's go back to the party, shall we?'

###

They stayed for a while after the second half of their set, basking in the feeling of the evening. Richard, it turned out, was handy with a record player, and the garden filled with familiar songs, Patsy and Johnny and Hank. They danced with the other guests, the anticipation of what they knew would happen next thick between them, in every look they gave each other, every brush of a hand against an arm.

One by one people began to retire, to their rooms for those staying at the cabin, or to their cars parked out front. A stooped, grey-haired lady who had taken a shine to Rayna bade her a slightly drunken goodnight, patting her on the shoulder and wagging a bony finger at Deacon.

'You are a fine young man, but you keep those hands to yourself tonight, you hear me?'

'Hmm,' Rayna mused, watching the old lady weave her way into the house after she'd waved away their offer of help getting to her room. She sidled a little closer to Deacon, just enough to tease him when she knew full well he was itching to get as close as he could. 'I don't know that I agree with our friend over there. I think you should absolutely _not_ keep your hands to yourself.'

'Oh is that so?' Deacon said, his voice low in her ear.

'That is so,' she purred. 'Let's go to bed, Deacon.'

They looked at each other for a long moment, one they wouldn't forget; it was the one before everything changed. He gave her a nod of his head, and she put her glass down on the nearest table, his hand on her back as he led her towards the porch stairs.

There were less people around, a couple of waiters with bottles of wine in coolers that they were taking outside to switch with the empties, an older couple being helped into their coats. Rayna and Deacon walked through the twisting corridors without speaking, coming to a stop outside their adjacent doors.

'Yours?' he asked, and she twisted the handle in answer.

The click of the door closing behind them resounded through the hushed, still room. It felt like punctuation, an audible mark between everything that had come before, and everything that was about to happen.

They were alone, finally, no bandmates, no Beverly, no interruptions.

Rayna stood with her back to Deacon, looking in at the cool wooden walls, the spray of sweetpeas tumbling from a pot in the corner, the oversized oil painting that hung opposite the bed.

The bed. Huge, wooden, a canopy draped over its posts, soft white sheets and an abundance of swollen pillows.

She turned to him. They threaded their fingers together, standing and taking it all in. It felt as though everything slowed down; the rush they'd been in only the day before, the urgency, it all melted into the background, leaving only the two of them and that big, inviting bed.

They didn't turn the lights on, something about doing so would have shattered the moment. The illumination from the half-moon streamed through the glass doors that overlooked the forest, coated everything silver. There was no need to close the blinds, the shadows of the trees affording them privacy.

Rayna felt shy, the boldness she'd built up over the past few weeks taking a step back. Deacon sensed it, and he tangled a curl around his finger, kissing her cheek. The warmth of his lips flooded her body and she looped her arms around his neck, breathing him in.

'It's okay, baby,' he whispered, pulling her close and running his hands up and down her back.

After a minute or two she detached herself from him, and turned to face the doors. Her message was clear - Deacon, his hands shaking, found the zip at the back of her dress, pulling it slowly down. The dress hung loose, her skin bare beneath it; she wore no bra, and he traced the line of her spine with his fingertip, following the path the zip had taken.

Rayna shivered, watching their reflection in the glass, and he took a step closer to her, his breath on her neck. She swore she could hear his heart beating, or maybe it was her own, she couldn't be sure; it sped up when his warm hands brushed her shoulders, taking with them the straps of her dress. It fell from her and pooled at her feet, and he moved in front of her, holding out his hands. She took them, stepping out of the heap of crimson and her shoes at the same time.

'Ray,' he breathed, looking down at her in only her panties. She saw him swallow, and he looked terrified suddenly; she reached for his face, her hand stroking his cheek, his neck, falling to his chest. He kept his eyes on her as she opened his shirt buttons one by one and pushed back the sides. He helped her tug it from his waistband and down his arms, and levered off his boots as it fluttered to the floor, kicking them aside.

She moved to his belt buckle next, aware of him watching as she fumbled with it; it came loose from its holder and Rayna felt a little wobbly at the knees as she freed it from the loops of his pants. It hit the floor with a thud, and they both let out a shaky laugh.

'All these expensive clothes,' Deacon said, his voice smokey, 'just thrown about like this.' He put his hands on Rayna's hips. 'What would the Jenkins' think?'

The heat flared between them and Rayna's stomach flipped with arousal. His lips were only centimetres away, and they crushed hers the instant she popped the button on his pants. She threw her arms around him, the removal of clothing forgotten.

He lifted her off her feet, his arms strong around her waist and flush against him she could feel how hard and ready he was. He kept his lips on hers and carried her to the bed, and when her legs bumped the edge of it he slid her to the ground, making sure their bodies rubbed teasingly against each other's. She looked up at him through heavy eyelids as she lowered herself onto the bed, first to sit on the end, and then to lay back; Deacon's eyes raked over her.

Rayna watched as he tugged his zipper down and pushed his pants over his hips. He leaned down momentarily and picked them up, tossing them towards the side of the bed, and with only his boxers on, he put a knee on either side of her legs, the mattress dipping under their combined weight. He crawled up to join her, holding himself above her, and she tugged on him.

They kissed desperately, hands everywhere, rocking against each other, Deacon's hands on her breasts. He trailed his lips down her neck, sucked on the skin behind her ear, scraped his teeth along her collarbone. His hand strayed down the back of her panties and rubbed her supple ass, and she hooked her leg over his waist, fingers in his hair, tongue in his mouth. They ground against each other for as long as they could stand, the friction between their underwear reaching a crescendo until his fingers stole inside her panties and felt how wet she was.

' _Baby_ ,' he hissed, circling against her in just the way she liked. He teased her, drawing his middle finger back and forth, letting the tip ease inside her only enough to make her grunt in frustration. He succeeded in making her wetter still, and when she sunk her fingernails into his ass, her breath hot in his ear as she reprimanded him, he chuckled to himself and put her out of her misery.

'Fuck,' she gasped when he drove his finger into her all the way to the knuckle. He let it rest there for a few seconds before he slid it back, repeating the motion a couple of times; Rayna's hand on his ass lost its grip, and he added a second finger, moving them around in circles inside her.

He crooked them in a beckoning gesture, switching between fast and slow movements, and Rayna felt like she'd lost the ability to see. She panted into his mouth, and he stroked her in just the right spot in response. An orgasm began to build in her and she moaned, but he felt it too and slowed.

At her protest he nibbled on her ear, moving back to her entrance and spreading the moisture there, dipping in and out of her messily, and she knew he was making sure she was as ready and as lubricated for him as she could be. His fingers were thick - something that got her hot every time she watched them pluck at his guitar - but she knew all too well how much thicker his penis was and it was going to be an adjustment, there was no question.

When he was satisfied, he removed his hand from her panties and with a thorough kiss, lifted himself to a kneel and peeled them down her legs. Rayna bit hard on her bottom lip, watching the gravity hit him as he took in the sight of her naked body stretched out before him. He settled onto his side next to her, and again the air around them seemed to swell, to magnify; his hands drifted over her skin: her stomach, her hipbone, her arm, tangling with her fingers.

When they skated up to her breasts she watched his eyes, greedily staring at her pert nipples as he traced patterns around them and over them. They puckered further, and Deacon couldn't resist: his tongue flicked out to taste one, and with his other hand he reached down and gripped himself through his boxers. Rayna let out a stifled moan at the action, itching to touch him, but she let him instead indulge himself in her breasts, his favourite things.

His fingers found their way between her legs again and she bunched her hands in the sheets when he easily slipped them back in. For a few glorious moments he sucked at each of her nipples in turn and moved his fingers inside her simultaneously, and the thought that she may not be able to make it through the night without waking the entire cabin crossed her mind.

And then his fingers were gone and her hands were on his boxers and she all but ripped them over his ass, launching them away from the bed like the hindrance they were. She took his penis in both hands and pumped him, amazed by how hard he was, sure he was even bigger somehow. The thought was no longer daunting; she wanted him inside her, and there was no more waiting she could manage.

'Deacon,' she said in a plea, and he nodded, the very same need all over his face.

She released him, and he stretched over the side of the bed. She realised belatedly why he'd thrown his pants down there - he pulled his wallet from the back pocket and opened it, tossing it back to the floor and sitting beside her with a packet between his fingers. A condom, she saw, and a ripple coursed through her. She'd never even seen a condom up close before, and she wondered what it felt like.

He tore open the packet, and when he rose to his haunches Rayna followed, sitting up and biting the insides of her cheeks as she took in the protrusion of his penis, the way it sprung eagerly before him. She watched intently as he rolled the condom over it and he gazed at her, thrilling at her fascination. When he reached the base, Rayna lifted her hand and looked up at him, hesitating. He croaked out a strangled noise, and she touched the latex curiously, surprised to find that it felt almost wet. She gripped him with her hand, the feel of his encased flesh sending her near insane with want.

She let go, and he shook his head in disbelief at what was happening, leaning forward to kiss her and easing her onto her back as he did. She felt his weight on top of her, his chest pushing into her breasts, and she opened her legs for him, pulling them up on either side of his hips as he lay in between them.

'I love you, Ray,' he said, and she'd never known anything more true in her life. He kissed her, her lips, one of her cheeks, her nose, his smile tender and serious.

'I love you too Deacon,' she told him, and he took it as permission, just as she intended.

Propping himself up on one of his elbows, he reached down and took hold of himself. He nudged his length through her folds, rubbing it up and down, and Rayna held her breath, knowing this was it. He circled his tip around her entrance, and as he lifted his head just enough to lock eyes with her, she felt it: carefully and oh so slowly, he entered her.

The stretch, inch by inch as he pushed himself in further, was intense, somewhere between impossible and delicious. She felt his thickness, her walls tight around it, open her up to make room for him. It seemed endless; he was long as well as wide, and he gave her pauses as he went, letting her adjust, letting her catch her faltering breath and pressing delicately through the resistance he met, searching her face for reassurance that he wasn't hurting her.

And then he was inside her fully, her hands gripping his sides, and he was looking down at her in joy and relief and arousal.

'Oh', she cooed, her mouth making a perfect circle as she savoured the way he felt, the newness of it.

'Are you okay, baby?' he asked, very aware that it was a lot for her to take, that she would need a minute, and he was careful not to move until he made sure she wanted him to.

She nodded, unable to wipe the smile from her face; she felt giddy, light-headed, and for a moment they just grinned at each other, before he dropped his face to kiss her. She felt his penis shift a little inside her as he leaned down and she dug her nails into him, relishing the feel of it.

She'd expected it to hurt when the time came, and it did, but not at all how she'd imagined. He was big, there was no denying it, and he filled her entirely - it ached, in a heavy way. It had pinched when he'd pushed into her, but it turned her on even more somehow, something raw and primal about it.

When she lifted her hips into him he groaned, and pulled gently out of her; it felt exquisite, the torturous slide, the way her walls closed up again as though they chased him, wanting more. He paused when only the head of his penis kept her open for him, and in a steady, slow rhythm, he began to move in and out of her.

'Oh God,' she gasped, ' _Deacon_.' Every thrust made her whole body thrum, every moan mingling with his. His face was slack with pleasure, and he found one of her hands and twined their fingers together. Their skin grew slick with sweat, and Rayna was struck with the certainty that nothing she'd ever experienced was more incredible. She never wanted to forget the look on Deacon's face, or how it made her feel to see how much he was enjoying her body, how deeply he felt the intimacy between them.

Their connection had been instant and intense as soon as they'd met, and it had strengthened with each foray into their developing physical relationship, but bared to him completely, her body letting him move within it, Rayna felt something shift. It was a sealing, a promise. They were vulnerable to each other in every way, and what it did to them, how it bound them to one another, was irrevocable.

'You feel so good baby,' Deacon rasped, nuzzling her neck and rotating his hips. She arched her back, her arms around his shoulders, fingers leaving marks on him. He cupped her breast and massaged it, pinching her nipple and drawing sounds from her mouth she didn't even recognise.

His thrusts were interspersed with kisses wherever he could reach, and his hands travelled over her thighs, brushed her hips. She felt love radiating from him and she clung to him; he was gentle with her, attentive to her reactions and responding to what she let him know she wanted. He knew how to read her face expertly, what every bite of her lip meant, her moans. When she grasped his ass and pulled him in further, he stilled, and watching her face, he pressed his whole length into her and held himself there. Rayna exclaimed in pleasure; she could feel him deep within her, the pressure taking her breath away, and she dropped her head back and surrendered to it. She gripped his biceps, tensed on either side of her as he groaned, letting him revel in how she was taking all of him. She almost, so almost, came at the combination of the thought of it and the way it felt, and Deacon's expression of all-consuming bliss was all she could take. She started to tremble, her knees weak, and he felt it right away.

'Mmph,' he grunted as he pulled out of her, making a show of the slow drag of his penis, and she closed her eyes, trying to curb the rippling. She managed it somehow, and Deacon held himself a safe space away to give her a moment. She wanted so much to come with him, for them both to feel the release simultaneously of this thing that had been building up in them since the moment they'd laid eyes on each other.

She opened her eyes to find him smiling down at her, and she returned it, stroking his face. He kissed her, taking a long time to explore her mouth, to suck on her tongue and graze his lips over hers. Eventually she couldn't take the absence of him any longer, and she nudged him with her hips, signalling to him that she was ready.

He obliged her, dipping in just the head of his penis in a shallow stroke followed by a deeper one. She clenched around him involuntarily on each deeper thrust, and damn, the mix of sensations felt unbelievable. She was discovering along with him what she liked, and she made it clear with the shredded moans that burst from her that she _liked_ this. When he switched to repeated full thrusts she felt herself being opened again and again and wetness seeped from her in response.

They were building to a point of no return, Deacon looking like he was struggling to control himself, and she murmured senselessly at him, spurring him on. He took her hips in his hands and tilted them back, just slightly - and just enough. Rayna cried out, feeling the head of his increasingly rigid length hit the right spot. He slowed his strokes, sliding almost all the way out and back into her, holding himself against the same spot for a second with just the right amount of force before he withdrew each time. When her gasps of enjoyment blurred into indistinguishable moans, he sped up, pumping his hips and murmuring encouragement.

'That's it baby, that's it,' he coaxed, squeezing her hip. 'Come for me Ray.'

At his words Rayna lost it; fire ripped through her body and she slammed her eyes shut, clamping down around him. Her orgasm shot out in waves again and again, stars prickling behind her eyelids, and she held onto him tightly, mouthing his name and digging her fingers into his skin. It lasted longer than any she'd had before, and only as it started to recede did she manage to open her eyes. Deacon was watching her in awe, his chest heaving above her, and she realised he'd restrained himself just long enough to watch her come. She bit hard on her lip as it hit her and wrapped her legs around his back, pulling him as close as she could and throbbing powerfully.

He swore loudly at the angle she'd given him, one of his favourites, it turned out, and drove into her, calling out her name as his face contorted. He held himself inside her as he emptied into the condom, and at the _fucking thought_ of him coming while he was buried in her, the feel of it even though it was muted by the layer of latex, a second orgasm hit her before the first had finished, and she yelped in surprise.

They ground against each other for a long time, the breath knocked from them, words impossible. When eventually their bodies quieted, Deacon raised his head and shook it in wonder, his smile like none Rayna had seen. He kissed her, their mouths wet, whispering how much he loved her over and over.

He nestled his head between her breasts, kissing the one he was facing, and she sifted her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, stunned. She felt different, changed, even through her haze, and it almost made her laugh - she'd always thought it was a cliche when people said sex had that effect.

Deacon stayed inside her while they calmed, and when her legs shook too much to keep them hooked around him, she released them and let them drop back down onto the bed. When he saw the twinge of discomfort on her face he lifted his weight off her, balancing on his forearms, turning to kiss the swell of her neglected breast. She laughed huskily at the condition her limbs were in, knowing she would be aching like crazy in the morning, and Deacon rubbed his stubble against her neck, chuckling with her.

'Good thing we got tomorrow off,' he said. 'We can sleep in in this big bed to recover.'

'Hmm, that sounds perfect. _Today_ has been perfect.'

He kissed her, long and lingering, so happy to hear her say so, and smoothed the damp hair from her temples. She sighed in contentment, and he moved a hand down between their bodies, guiding himself gingerly out of her.

'Baby?' he said in concern when she winced. 'Are you alright?'

'Yeah,' she said, 'it just feels weird. I'm okay.' She motioned for him to go on, and he released himself from her with a slurp, quickly peeling off the condom and tying it in a knot, discarding it over the edge of the bed. He rolled onto his side next to her and pulled her into his arms, snuggling into her.

'Hi,' he whispered, kissing her forehead and running his fingers up and down her arm.

She curled into him, shivering slightly in the breeze from the ceiling fan she hadn't even noticed before, and breathing in his scent, all the more potent for his exertion. 'Hi,' she replied, feeling such a rush of emotion for him that it overwhelmed her. He pulled the covers up around them, warming her with his body.

'That was amazing,' Deacon told her. ' _You_ amaze me.'

She looked up at him, drawing a fingertip over his jaw. 'Thank you for tonight,' she said, 'for takin' such good care of me, and for being so patient with me.' She moved her finger to trace his smile. 'I've thought about this so much, what it would be like to do this with you, how it would feel. I never even came close to how it really was. I'll remember tonight forever, Deacon.'

He covered her hand and pressed his lips against it, kissing every pad of every finger. 'I ain't ever been so happy, Ray. I so badly wanted to get this right for you.'

'Oh, Deacon, it was. All of it.'

'You know,' he said, and he took a little pause, toying with her hair. 'I've never done this before either.' She tilted her head, looking at him in confusion. 'I mean, I've had sex.' He stroked his hand down her back, looking into her eyes. 'But I've never made love to anyone before, Ray. Tonight was the first time for me too.'

Rayna, laid there in his arms, more content than she'd felt in her entire life, melted. She had no words to offer him in answer, so she did the only thing that would convey the magnitude of her love for him: she kissed him, and she didn't stop until they fell into a heavy, satiated sleep.


End file.
